Eastern Policies
by Chameleon2
Summary: Sequel to Blockage. Lex and Chloe go to China for business purposes, but soon all things go to hell and it's up to Clark, Lois and General Lane to get both of them out.
1. Prologue

Hello, all

Hello, all.

I have been bad. I haven't read other people's stuff, nor left comments, nor actually finished the rest of the series. Mea culpa. What I HAVE been doing is trying to get the sequel out of my head and my butt away from the computer.

I've tried everything: Going back to my original fic about Orpheus, trying to rekindle my old Supernatural addiction, watching Westerns…

Well, as you might have guessed, it didn't work :) So I'm back again, with the sequel to iBlockage or Samson Reversed/i. It's a direct sequel, so if you haven't read the first part, some things might seem very strange to you.

This fic…I don't have it planned out as meticulously as Blockage, and it will certainly be much shorter, probably about 100 pages or something. I'm not sure yet. Rating? PG-13 to start with, probably up to R later for sex, violence, torture and other sweetness. If, of course, I can bring myself to finish it—which is not a threat or a troll-like demand for reviews, it's just that I'm not sure if I'll be able to get into this one like I did into Blockage.

Ah well. You might call this a teaser, I guess. Cheers!

EASTERN POLICIES

**Prologue.**

30th January 2008.

It was five twenty-five and most of the Daily Planet had emptied out, first at a trickle, then almost at a stampede. Clark Kent regarded his fellow-reporters drain through the door and allowed himself a five-second marathon of mine sweeper. He lost three of the four games he played, though more because his computer couldn't process his clicks than because he sucked at it.

He sighed. Today was Wednesday, and he always had coffee with Chloe on Wednesday—when the both of them were available, of course. At the moment, she wasn't, being in China, and while he wasn't so starved for friends he couldn't deal with her absence, he had missed his weekly coffee break.

It simply wasn't the same with Lois (who had taken pity on his lonely soul and joined him in Chloe's stead) . She made a coffee break as exhausting as, say, lifting an airplane and jogging around with it for a hundred miles or so. He liked Lois, he really did, but god, the woman was like a bloody tsunami of talk. She just went on, and on, and on, and when she left the cafeteria, refreshed after the break and with a smear of cream on her left cheek, he lay flattened in his chair, chewed up and half digested by the natural force called Lois Lane.

Chloe was spunky and witty, a bit like a chattering monkey at times.

Lois was more like a wrecking ball. She simply was no fun to have coffee with. Trying to follow her breathless conversation and trying not to be insulted by her 'friendly jibes' cost him more energy than it ever gained him.

She was gone now, for the rest of the week, chasing news and biting off the heads of innocent interviewees.

Clark was already relishing the peace and quiet.

He tsk' ed to himself as the mine field exploded for the fifth time, then lifted his fingers from the key board when his phone buzzed in his pocket. "No, Lois," he muttered to himself, digging into his pocket. "I won't check your article on biochemistry. I have better things to do—and besides, you have a spelling checker." It might be Lana, too, he reflected, gingerly pulling the thing from the depths of his pants. (Shouldn't hold it too tightly. Phones were fragile things. So, he had noticed, were pants not made of denim.) It was her turn to shop-n-cook and she usually phoned him to ask if he were going to make it home in time.

He raised his eyebrows as he noticed the name on the display. It wasn't Lois, and neither was it Lana. According to his number rec he was being called by LEX, and that was quite impossible. They had more or less buried the hatchet (because, Clark figured with a dull blush of shame, it was kind of hypocritical to bear a grudge against people who may have caused you the occasional feelings of hate, enmity and betrayal, but who forgave you for jumping and assaulting them in the most violent way), but really, Lex was still the last person he expected to call. Especially from China.

Unless, he thought, Chloe had nicked his phone and had missed their Wednesday coffee chat as much as he had. What time was it in China at this point, anyway?

He answered the call with a short, inquiring "Clark Kent," which made asking the name of the person on the other side redundant.

"Clark." Lex's voice, echoing a little with distance and underscored by a swift patter of footsteps. Clark's eyebrows arched up while his brain attempted to formulate reasons why Lex could possibly want to call him from China. He decided to give his imagination a break and simply ask.

"Hey, Lex. What are you..."

"Shut up and listen. I don't have much time," Lex interrupted him. "You need to record this—write it down or record it. Do you have a recorder at hand?"

Although he immediately bristled at the 'shut up', the urgency in Lex's voice made Clark swallow any sharp words and hunt for his USB recorder, standard journalist issue.

"Yes, got one." Instead of trying to start up an official contraption, he just held the cell close to the recording device; he could follow Lex just fine from the ten-inch distance.

"Good." He sounded like he was running, or at least walking fast; his breath came in short, fast bursts. "Ok, you can delete this bit if you want but I really need you to come to China."

"Lex, what the..."

"Shut up and let me talk, they almost have me and I need to...They have Chloe. And they'll have me in a few minutes. I need you to come and get her, and probably me, out, because I have no clue how anyone else will possibly manage that without superpowers."

There was a distant noise in the background, and the rhythm of footfalls—Lex's footfalls—sped up.

"Now make sure you tape this. I'm in Xue Dong, that is X-U-E D-O-N-G, in a small town called Shueng, S-H-U-E-N-G. This part originally fell under the magistracy of a man called Aiguo Bohai, but he's dead. Right now this town is ruled by two rivaling gangs and there is a small civil war going on at the moment…"

He took a deep breath, then continued in the same fast, toneless staccato. "You'll need the army to get in here—army, S.W.A.T., S.E.A.L., I don't know, civilian hostage situation, foreign kidnapping…use whatever term will get their attention—and you'll probably need my father's help as well. He will be able to help you and the army get in faster, through his own…special…means. Don't bother trying it through the usual, political channels. Governmental influence has ceased, here.

Let my father listen to this tape as well—you are taping this, aren't you?"

"Yes," Clark said, forcing himself to be curt despite his growing anxiety.

"Good. Good. Hang on." His footsteps, which had slowed down for a moment, went faster again, and then stopped altogether. When he spoke again his voice was soft and low, and his connection crackled. "Dad, this is Lex." He rattled off a string of numbers, which might be anything, but which Clark guessed made up his LuthorCorp identification number, or something other official ID. "I'm afraid to say that the China deal has blown up in my face." It was amazing, but he managed a sarcastic drawl at a hurried whisper. "Mister Wong is dead. So is the mayor of Shueng—or rather he's been replaced by a man called Fengfei. He leads one of the gangs here, the Phoenix gang. Apparently the glass factory building suffers from squatters, and they form the other cartel. Drug related of course. They're experimenting with a new kind of…Fuck."

He started walking again; Clark could hear the soft thump of his feet on wood. As he continued, he spoke more urgently than ever. "They have Chloe Sullivan, I don't know where, and I don't know what they want with her. She's been missing for two hours now. At first I'd hoped she'd simply ran away but I am pretty much convinced either of the gangs has her. It can be that they're just holding her because they want to get to me, but I…I just don't know. I don't know what they want, I'm not even sure I'm pursued by the same gang that has her. Maybe they'll demand a ransom, but I doubt they'll get through to the West, so that's unlikely. I already tried contacting the authorities but I can't reach anyone. I think the ambassador over this region might either be assassinated too, or deposed, or maybe he's in league with them…or maybe it's simple bureaucracy that's against me…"

He cursed again as a high, male voice shouted something in Chinese, and he broke out at a run again, never halting his stream of information, wooshing it out every time he exhaled. "Chloe Sullivan is related to General Lane…" he panted, probably singularly for his father's sake. More voices joined the din in the background. "He should be able to pull some strings in the army…He might be able to penetrate the area and get her out… Get Clark with him to bring this out to the rest of the world…I need a reporter I can more or less trust to actually print the truth, so…There is no one here I trust, or know, really, no contacts, but one of the hotel people…" He suddenly cut off with a yelp of pain.

"Lex!" Clark shouted, jumping up despite himself.

"Huh," Lex breathed. He was still walking but he appeared to be slowing down. "They shot me. With a…tranquilizer dart. Right. At least I hope it's a tranquil…tran…fuck it. I guess they don't want me dead…yet." He gave a rather desperate chuckle. "So. Clark. This is not a trap. Or a ruse to get my…I'd appreciate it if you could come and pick Chloe up…Me too if you…" There was a crash, the kind a body makes when it falls to the floor. "Fuck…" Lex spat weakly, far away, and then a great many moving people obscured any other sound he might have made, barking harshly in Chinese, and then the line went dead.

TBC

So, let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 1

Hey Jen

Hey Jen! Your wish is my command…

Guuhhh. I didn't know it would take me so much time researching Chinese customs and names. But I want to make SOME sense, and not come across as a total Asiadumbo :P So that's why it's going a bit slow at the moment, I have to read up on Chinese etiquette! (Good excuse for lazy writing, right? :D)

One: 9 Days Earlier - Honored Arrivals

Monday 21st January

It was odd, Lex Luthor reflected as he regarded his fellow passenger through eyes stupid and half-lidded with travel-weariness, how he found personality traits he despised in one person, wholly natural and even charming in another.

Like the way Chloe Sullivan, who happened to be the fellow passenger in question, completely ignored the hideous mess that was her hair, only fluffing it a little with a careless hand, and peered anxiously in her little hand mirror to see if her eye make-up, which was perfect, hadn't ran out in the last five minutes since landing. Lex was convinced she was capable of walking into the featureless mass of Chinese business people with that owl's nest without giving said mop a second thought, while worrying about her make-up all the way to the hotel.

Women and their priorities.

How cute.

Of course he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. If he made a single comment about her hair to a jet-lagged Chloe, she'd probably fish a chamois out of her hand bag and polish his own smooth head until he squeaked. After at most 3 hours of sleep during a journey of over 24 hours by plane, he wasn't sure his ego would be able to take that.

Chloe snapped her mirror closed and tucked it back into her bag, combed her fingers through her hair (making it look even more out-of-bed-like) and pressed her nose against the window.

"I think I can see our gracious hosts."

"Really?" Lex gulped down the last of his third whiskey-laced espresso (caffeine to keep him awake, booze to keep him mellow. It was an excellent combination). He got up from his chair, wobbling a little as the plane abruptly taxied into another direction, and joined her at the window. In the distance, a small group of men in suits stood in the middle of the plane, huddled against the bulk of two large, gray Buicks. Lex smiled. Business people never seemed to fit in rural surroundings. Ties streaming out in a snow-scented, natural breeze as opposed to a rush of speed to make it to a meeting in time, or catch a departing train, just looked…weird. He knew from experience that those gleaming city shoes lost most of their function in a cold, wet field especially when, which was the case if he had noticed correctly, the grass was about knee-high in patches.

In Xue Dong Capital, about 500 miles away from here, planes would be able to land on a slab of asphalt the size of, well, Metropolis Airport-West. Here, not even in but near Shueng, they'd had to mow the nearest bit of flat land to enable Lex and Mr. Wong to land. Lex wouldn't have minded driving over from the Capital, but according to Wong the road to Shuen was 'Herr', if not downright absent. Shueng lay at the foot of one of the hills that framed the Changying valley, and no one had as yet seen it worthwhile to pave a decent road over the hills, or dig a tunnel through them.

Changying, Lex had told Chloe, translated as 'flourishing and lustrous'. It was pretty much dead and soggy now, but the bare bushes and rippling grass in the distance held a promise of great, untamed lushness.

Lex might have felt smug if this square mile or so of wilderness had been mowed down for him personally—what better mark to leave on the world than one everyone could see, much like a crop circle? Mr. Wong having arrived a day or two before him, also by plane, he merely allowed himself a twinge of satisfaction.

The plane drove on for another hundred yards, then rolled to a swaying stop not far away from the shivering Chinese men.

"It looks cold outside," Lex said, stretching. "Do you have a scarf with you?"

Chloe waved a handful of fringe at him. "As instructed. But won't we just be hustled into a car and then taken to our luxurious accommodation with a blazing hearth and Yakuza?"

Lex had already opened his mouth to tell her it was Jacuzzi, not Yakuza, before he noticed her grin and shook his stuffy head. "I think they call it the Triad here in China," he drawled, shrugging into his own coat.

"Really? So what do they call a bubble bath?"

"A bubble bath? Um… pào pào yù, I guess."

"Pao pao yu? That means Jacuzzi?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

She giggled, and he raised an eyebrow. "It's so cute that you know the word for 'bubble bath' in Chinese."

"I'm glad you approve." He turned towards the door at the sound of the stairs butting against the metal. "Come on, let's go. And please don't laugh when they try to speak English, because it's really funny."

Immediately her mouth stretched wide, even as she struggled to keep the grin off her face. "Bastard. Now you KNOW I'll have to laugh."

"Life is full of smaller and bigger difficulties," Lex said serenely, shooting her a grin of his own before schooling his features to perfect placidity. The door opened, and a blast of cold wind made him turn up the collar of his coat. "Come. You first."

Chloe moved towards the door, wrapping her scarf more tightly around her neck. "Should I bow?"

"Nah, a handshake will do. Just don't stare into their eyes too much. They don't like it. I'll introduce you, just keep next to me." He laughed at her dismayed face and used the moment to smooth out a particularly messy lock of hair under the cover of affection. "Don't look so scared. Everything will work out fine, you'll see."

"How can I not look a person in the eyes when I talk to them?"

"Address the ground," Lex suggested, and then they were outside, descending the plane steps and squinting their eyes against the bite of the wind. A few flakes of snow danced in the air, formed icy dandruff in the dark hair of their hosts and instantly numbed Lex's exposed scalp. He ducked further into his coat.

He recognized Mr. Wong from the webcam meetings they'd had; a slender, fine-boned man in his late thirties or early forties with a generous mouth and small, very black eyes. Mister James Wong, whose name implied a far more Western attitude than he actually possessed, would function as an intermediary.

"Mister Ruthor," he said in English with unabashed mispronunciation of the proud Luthor name. "Welcome. I hope your flight was not too uncomfortable." He stepped forward and held out his hand in greeting, gave Lex's hand a quick shake and immediately turned to introduce Lex to an elderly man with graying temples and square glasses. Mister Wong bowed to the older man from the shoulders. "This is Mister Shanyuang Yu. He is the manager of the Sparkling Sources project."

The man held out his hand as well and Lex gripped it firmly, flicking his eyes over the man's face to remember his features before lowering his gaze to the ground. High forehead, wide, flat cheekbones, an arrogant, thin-lipped mouth.

"Shanyuang Yu _Jingli_," Lex said with a minor inclination of his head, and he thought he saw a spark of surprised pleasure in Mister Shanyuang's cool slanted eye. _Yes, you stuck-up piece of Asian shit, _he thought with jetlagged unpleasantness. _This stupid foreigner speaks your language and knows all about your customs._ He kept any superior feelings hidden, though, even as Wong continued his introductions in Chinese, his face as blank as the manager's.

The next man was the town's Mayor, who was introduced as Mister Fengfei Wei. His face had that strange mask-like quality so many Asian business men and women seemed to have, but he had a small triangular scar, a bit like a tear in his flesh, just above the left corner of his mouth, which gave his impassive features a permanent semi-sneering expression—which, in turn, was a bit disconcerting. The combination of those flat, dark eyes above the involuntary sneer somehow suggested a kind of unfeeling cruelty—the kind Lex had witnessed in the criminally insane during his stay in Belle Reve.

But Fengfei's handshake was strong and while his fingers were cold, the palm of his hand held a remnant of warmth, and as Lex pronounced his _ni hao_ with a perfect lazy Mandarin accent, his distorted mouth quirked up a bit further, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. _Not so bad, perhaps,_ Lex thought.

He was then introduced to the last and youngest member of the welcoming committee, a nervous-looking pimply young man with too large teeth, with a limp grip and hands white, damp and cold like snow—_like shaking hands with a glove only partly filled with ice water_, Lex thought disgustedly—a local recruit to the Sparkling Sources who apparently was going to show him and Wong around the place. The last man's name was Zhen Ye, which made Lex snigger internally, because one of the meanings of 'Ye' was bright, and the man looked about as bright as the average Smallville hog.

When he was formerly introduced, he took it on himself to present Chloe, in Chinese to the hosts, in English to her. It made his head spin, switching back and forth like that, but he thought he'd managed it rather neatly and without any grave errors when the men had shaken her hand and Chloe had managed not to show her teeth all over the field.

All in all the introductions had taken perhaps five minutes, enough time for the drivers and his crew to get Lex and Chloe's luggage out of the plane and into the trunk of the two cars, and more than enough time to make Lex hope his ears wouldn't just drop off with cold. He didn't much fancy looking like a seal, as he imagined he must look without ears.

"Please," Mister Wong said, gesturing at one of the cars. "We will take you to your hotel. I will travel with you. We will meet up with the other gentlemen," again that almost-bow to the Mayor and the manager, "in Shueng."

More grave nodding. The welcoming committee hastily filed into one car, while Lex, Chloe and Wong got into the other. Wong took the passenger seat next to the driver, who had to start up the car three times before the motor purred to life. Chloe rubbed her hands, shot Lex a questioning smile.

Lex leaned over so he could whisper in her ear. "Well done, young Padawan."

Her smile widened. It trembled a little when Wong looked over his shoulder and addressed the both of them in his own charming accent of English. "I hope you are not very much tired by the journey?"

Lex gave Chloe a nudge. There wouldn't be all that many people who could speak English in this place; it would be good if she could bond with one of the few who did.

"Uh, no, that's alright," she said, startled, and then smiled disarmingly. "It was a very long flight, but we…I was able to get some sleep on board."

Mister Wong smiled over his shoulder, causing his eyes to almost disappear and his mouth to take over roughly three quarters of his face. It made him look surprisingly attractive in a dopey, clownish way.

Lex could feel Chloe relax in her seat, and despite herself her wattage turned up at the sight of Wong's banana mouth.

"Good," Wong said. "Very good! You see, the business people in Shueng have prepared a small welcome reception. Unless you are too exhausted by your trip, they would be delighted if you could attend."

"Of course," Lex said, with a look at Chloe, who nodded. "We'd be honored."

"Good," Wong said again, pleased. "Good."

They fell silent. Lex half-dozed in the leather seat, moving only to rub his tingling ears as they thawed. Chloe's leg touched his at the knee, warm and solid; he could feel the edge of her boot rub against his shin as she shifted to look outside. It was still snowing sparingly, and Lex thought the landscape had a kind of despairing fairy-tale look about it: all those bare, white trees like fluff-covered skeletal arms reaching for the heavens.

Chloe seemed to share his sentiment. "How Poe-esque," she murmured, drawing his attention to a large black bird sitting in the top of a large hedge plant.

Wong spoke up again. "Yes," he said, "Shueng is still very much untouched by the hectic modern life and infrastructure, as you will find out for yourself."

"Have you been here long, Mister Wong?"

"Please, call me James," Wong said, and Lex made a mental note to congratulate Chloe on her befriending politics. It had taken him three meetings and five phone conversations before Wong would let him call by his first name, and his invitation had lacked the warmth he was now showing Chloe. He repressed the urge to put a possessive arm around her shoulders and ooze alpha male dominance. It would most likely be lost on Wong anyway. He was far too Asian to recognize any subtle signals Lex might give out, and besides, he was married. _And, _Lex mused, _I doubt she'd be attracted to a man who can only pronounce voiceless l's._

"Not very long," Wong continued, and his lip curled a little. "I only arrived yesterday. Of course I have visited the place twice before to see if it was suitable—which it is, for our purposes, uniquely suitable. But I have never stayed for much longer than a few days. Mister Zhen, the young man you've just met…He is the one who did the footwork for me here." He pulled at his safety belt, adjusting it against his shoulder so he could turn his head without having it cut into his throat. "I, myself, am from Chongquing." When Chloe looked blank, he added, "I daresay my travels to alive here took me almost as long as your own."

"It's right in the middle of China," Lex explained. "A bit to the south. Shueng's pretty high up north. Did you fly to Beijing, first?" Wong nodded. "We did, too. Stopped there to fuel up and await the morning, and then flew over the mountain range when we had enough light."

"The travel papers I sent to you were satisfactory?"

"We didn't have any difficulties in Beijing," Lex said. "We lost a few hours in Shanghai earlier, because they had to check a few things." He shrugged. He'd been fast asleep in the parked plane when the authorities had bowed their heads over his travel documents, discussing whether they should let him in and invade their perfect isolation. He couldn't be bothered with mundane things like overzealous customs officers, letting his spokespersons deal with the problems. "They got us in, and I daresay they'll get us out again, too."

"It is hard to quickly arrange a visa for foreign people," Wong sighed. "Especially when they want to build factories in the outlands of Jilin. Even though Sparkling Sources is a solid company with a good Chinese foundation, it has taken a long time before we finally got the warrant to build the glass factory."

Chloe perked up. In order to keep her keen, Lex had refused to tell her anything about his big project. He knew she'd searched his apartment for scraps of information about the mysterious factory, and also that she'd talked to three of his employees. Unfortunately, she'd picked the wrong ones. The China Project was Lex's private baby, he'd arranged almost everything by himself, and only his father and a few sponsors knew what it was all about.

"A glass factory?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Lex smiled. "How about the permit for the construction of a decent infrastructure?"

"I've had word that my latest proposition has been accepted, though no official Go-Ahead. It will take some time before the required people have signed it." He twisted around in his seat. "We won't get permission to tunner our way through the mountain. The road will have to run over the pass."

"So be it," Lex said. Next to him, Chloe was quivering with curiosity. He put his hand on her knee. "Patience," he drawled. "It's much more fun to find it out bit by bit than in one boring old statement."

"So it's more than just a glass factory?"

"Yes."

"You did not know?" Wong asked. Immediately his face became impassive again. "I thought you were…you are not a member of Mister Ruthor's management team?"

Chloe looked stricken. "No! I mean…No, I'm not. I am…"

"Miss Sullivan is my associate," Lex said smugly. "Just like I told you when you needed personal information for the visa and the other documents. Whether or not she is on my management team is inconsequential."

"Ah," said Wong. He sat straight in his seat, radiating cool displeasure.

Chloe mouthed Lex's name in despair, but again Lex shrugged and patted her knee. As with overzealous customs officers, he could not be bothered by the perceived feelings of face-loss of his colleagues either. Chloe would charm her way back into his good graces within two hours, of that he was certain. As for himself, all he had to do to mollify Wong was discreetly compliment him on how beautifully he had arranged everything—which he proceeded to do, and as he had expected, Wong said it was nothing and showed his silly grin again. He must have picked that up in the West.

_Face lost._

_Face regained. That simple._

A few minutes later they entered the outskirts of the town, and Chloe outdid herself in her charm-the-Chinaman policies by exclaiming, "Oh, but it isn't small at all! I thought it would be like…a tiny village, but it's quite large. Is that huge thing a Buddha statue?"

Immediately, Wong turned round again, almost beheading himself with his safety belt. "Yes," he said. "It is. It is quite ancient. It used to be situated on the mountain, over there," he pointed straight ahead, to the slope of the mountain's foothills, "Appalently it has been here for over a thousand years, next to a temple, watching down on the village as it grew. Then, about two hundred years ago, there was an earth quake, and the path leading to the temple and most of the temple itself was destroyed, and the people of the village decided to bring the statue into the town. If you look to your right…no, you can't see it from the road. Perhaps Mister Zhen or one of the other locals will show you, later. After they Buddha was transpolted to the town square, there were a few poor harvests. Not bad, just not rich. The people of Shueng came to believe that Buddha was trying to tell them something. One of the monks told them that Buddha was supposed to look down on them, not live in their midst, where he could not oversee their lives. So, they built another statue for Buddha, on the other mountain, and next to it, another temple."

He turned to Lex. "It is quite interesting, I can recommend seeing it. It's quite a bit of a hike, but the view is magnificent, and the temple is still mostly intact."

"Sure," Lex nodded, stifling a yawn. He was rather more fascinated with legends and myths than most men of his age, but since this particular story did not involve hidden maps, mysterious keys or glowing green stones, he could not manage more than a mild interest. Of course he was willing to visit old Buddhist temples and gawk at statues. After a good night sleep, that was, and an opportunity to voice what he was actually thinking. Already the Chinese requirement to be placid yet distant made him want to throw a tantrum and verbally flay people with sarcasm. He wished they'd already taken the next step in the complex dance of Chinese Business Etiquette, where he could ask people whether they were married and if they were looking forward to the Olympics. He had always been much better at bonding than at aloofness.

Well, no. I just like it better. He rubbed his stinging eyes. Now they had completely thawed out, his ears felt as if they had been recently boiled. I'm just tired. I just hope they won't expect us to socialize for more than an hour. They'd be HIGHLY insulted if I fell asleep in the middle of that Fengfei's welcome speech.

Chloe, still relatively fresh and blissfully ignorant of Chinese Business Protocol, leaned eagerly forward. "Are there still monks living there?" she asked. "At the new temple, I mean?"

"Perhaps in the summer," Wong said. "But frankly, I do not believe the new temple was anything more than a place of worship. It is more of a shrine than a temple. Perhaps one or two monks lived there, to keep the place tidy? At the moment it is abandoned."

"So the first temple was inhabited?"

"According to Mister Zhen it was. But it is now quite destroyed."

"I'd still like to see the ruins of the old temple, too."

"Perhaps I can ask Mister Zhen, or his sister. She has little Engrish, but she knows the mountains like the inside of her pocket and she is a dependable person. I could ask if you want."

"We would like that," Lex drawled, too weary to smirk at any mispronunciation. Chloe shot him an amused smile.

"You still awake?"

"Barely."

"If you are too tired…" Wong started, but Lex shook his head.

"I don't wish to insult Mister Shanyuang or the others," he said. "Beside, one can only beat a jet-lag by following the rhythm of the day and wait with going to sleep until night."

"Very good," said Wong. The car stopped in front of an imposing building. "We have arrived. The hotel is inferior and the service abysmal, but it is the best I could arrange."

As far as Chloe was concerned, the Hotel was excellent and the service impeccable, but while that might be her low standards or yet another weird Chinese custom—condemning whatever you offered as being unworthy while knowing it was more than fine—she wasn't sure. Personally, she thought the building, with its white walls, marble floors, delicate screens and stylish decorations, a hell of a lot more beautiful than the Ritz in Metropolis. And the slim, demure staff in respectively red, silk, traditional Chinese dress for women, and simple, almost severe black-and-white waiter uniforms for men, was attentive and quick.

After a few minutes to freshen up in their room, Lex and Chloe were collected by a man who introduced himself as Feng Lao. (_Another Feng_, Chloe thought despairingly. She had the feeling she'd already met three people with the same name, and at first sight they all looked alike, too). Feng Lao was but a humble bellboy, but he originated from Xue Dong, and spoke a little English. If they did not object, Feng Lao would be their intermediary at the hotel.

Lex said he had no objection, and Feng Lao bowed from the shoulders and asked the honored arrivals to follow him down to the reception.

They were received in a huge room tactically made smaller with the clever use of paper screens to keep the select crowd (make that fifteen people) from experiencing agoraphobic attacks. They were welcomed and, again, introduced to a bunch of people Chloe did not understand and could hardly distinguish from one another, then business cards were exchanged, and drinks were poured.

Apart from James Wong and Feng Lao—who might also be Lao Feng, she was no longer sure which name came first—no one seemed to speak English. Dazed after the latest introduction and temporarily abandoned by Lex, who had been whisked away by two gentlemen with knife-straight partings in their hair, Chloe inched towards the munchies, taking in the room as she drifted towards the paper screens that formed some sort of separation from the rest of the room.

A long, narrow table with snacks and delicacies stood in the middle of the actual room, and at the far end of the recreated room, in front of two of those screens. One showed a school of Koi carp, the other a long, snake-bodied dragon. Propelled by her inner reporter, Chloe sneaked a peek behind the screens, and noticed a grand piano and several stacks of chairs on the other side. On the wall opposite was a great collection of multicolored masks, which she would have loved to investigate, but at that moment a distressed waitress almost force-fed her a dumpling in order to pull her away from the screen.

The guests, Chloe gathered, were not supposed to snoop behind the curtains. She took another dumpling and, finding herself unattended for the moment, amused herself with watching Lex Blend In.

She didn't know how he did it, since he was as Caucasian as they came with his fair skin (_natural red-head_, she thought with an internal snicker), blue eyes and long, sly, Western features, not to mention his height, just a fraction over 6 foot—but he pulled it off. The first few minutes Lex stood out between the unanimous black-haired, short, slanted-eyed group like a white raven amongst a flight of crows. But somehow, over time, he so perfectly copied their gesticulation, their body language and their manner of speaking he could just have been a taller, paler Shuengian.

_Wax on, Wax off, _Chloe thought, substituting Mask for Wax. She took a sip of wine. Although Mister Myagi had been Japanese rather than Chinese, she had no trouble at all imagining Mayor Fengfei, one of the few she recognized at first sight because of his characteristic scar, instructing some youthful grasshopper in various destructive martial arts.

She hadn't really noticed in the field because of his coat, but in a suit the man's bulk was impressive. She wouldn't be at all surprised if he had been a warrior monk before deciding it would be nice to lead this distant fairy-tale Poe town.

_Maybe, _she fantasized, already half-drunk after one glass of wine and 24 hours of international travel, _he's the monk that lives in the Shrine James was talking about. Wouldn't that make a great article? Warrior monk by summer, Mayor by winter. I can just see him do Tai Chi or whatever it's called exercises beneath a waterfall, and scrubbing the moss of that Buddha statue hanging by the tips of his fingers from a branch or something…And wow, is that a part of a tattoo I see in his neck? Isn't that the height of cool? A Mayor with a tattoo? I wonder what it looks like…Would he have Koi on his back or a dragon?_

She felt a jaw-snapping yawn rise up and hid the part she couldn't swallow behind her hand.

"Miss Surrivan?"

Ah huff of laughter escaped through her yawn. _Hee. Rex Ruthor and Miss Surrivan. _She hid her rather hypocritical mirth—after all, she didn't speak a word of Chinese—in a welcoming smile and held out her hand. The man standing next to him, all gleaming black hair and polite, stiff smile, must have been introduced to her before but she had no idea who he was.

"If you're not sure of a person's name," Lex had told her during their short moment of privacy in the hotel room, "don't guess, just ask them again. You can ask a person's name as often as you need without offending them. They think we're stupid anyway, and can't keep them apart. Which, of course, you can't, if you're new to the herd." He had shown his mocking little smile. "I find that it helps to compare their faces to any animals or people I know they resemble, and try to keep track of their names that way."

"Ah, so that is the secret of your success in Asia," she had said, laughing.

"Absolutely."

"So what or who does James remind you of?"

"Wong? Why, a bull terrier, of course."

And the funny thing was that he was right. Wong did look a little like a bull terrier. The man now standing beside her was more difficult; he didn't immediately ring any animal bells. Maybe his name could give her a hint.

"I am terribly sorry," she said, when she got her hand back, "I have forgotten your name."

The wooden smile did not waver. It looked pasted on his lips. "I am Mister Hua Hong," he said in clipped, careful words. "Yu _Jingli's _assistant_._"

"Ahh," Chloe said with a convincing 'How COULD I forget?' gesture. _Who the fuck is Yu Jingli? Did I meet a Mister Yu Jingli? Wait, Lex said Jingli, back when we just got out of the plane. Didn't he address the old man as Jingli?_ "Ni hao," she said gamely.

"Ni hao," said Mister Hua. Unless he had introduced himself in the Western way. Then he was probably Mister Hong instead.

_Guhhh._ She made an attempt at idle conversation. "So, Mister Hua…" He did not correct her, nor did his expression change in any way. Either she had it right or he didn't know he had facial muscles. He looked just like one of the opera masks she'd seen on the other side of the room. "Did you also fly in from Shanghai, or are you from another city?"

"Yes," said Mister Hua, nodding. "Shanghai. Yes."

"Ah." She racked her brain. "Have you been here before?"

"Yes," said Mister Hua. "Nice place. Velly quiet. Good air." He flashed her a smile that appeared and then disappeared so suddenly it almost scared her. "Are you married, Miss Surrivan?"

_What!? _What was this? Chinese coming-on-to moves? But Mister Hua did not give her the impression of being in any way interested in her. He was just making conversation. Well, so be it.

"No," she said. "I'm not married. Are you, Mister Hua?"

Another abrupt, quick-vanishing manic grin. "Yes. One wife, three child."

"How nice. Do you have three sons?" Weren't all Chinese baby girls aborted or left at monasteries?

"Yes," Hua agreed. "One son, two gills."

Apparently not. "That's great. How old are they? I mean, are they going to school already, or are they still at home, or kindergarten?"

"Yes," Mister Hua said empathically.

"Um, they're at school? How old are they?"

"Yes," Mister Hua repeated firmly.

Chloe smothered her giggle in a sip of wine. "You didn't understand a single thing I just said, did you?"

"Yes," said Mister Hua and to her immense relief Lex saved her from further futile conversation by sliding up to her and saying, "I see you've made a friend."

"Oh, definitely. Lex, this is Mister Hua."

"I know," Lex said, smirking, and directed a few words at the gentleman in question, who consequently lost a bit of his wood-like expression, and even talked animatedly for a few seconds. When he fell silent, Lex translated to Chloe: "Mister Hua tells me to tell you he is sorry but his English is very poor, otherwise he might have told you about the marvels of the town—the Buddha, I guess, and the ruins and the temple. He wishes you a pleasant evening and hopes to speak to you soon."

As Lex, as well, stopped talking, Hua made one of those slight bows and beat a hasty, if elegant, retreat.

"Aww," said Chloe. "And it was so good of him to talk to the lonely foreign girl, even if his English WAS pretty crappy. I didn't scare him off, did I?"

"No, you didn't, he just saw an opportunity and took it." Lex selected a small puff pastry from a tray a red-dressed waitress held out to him, put it in his mouth and shivered. Chloe kept from biting into her own pastry, shot him a questioning glance. "This," he said, without moving a muscle, "tastes absolutely disgusting." He took a big gulp out of his glass, emptying it. He put it down on the table.

"Really?" Chloe nibbled at her snack. She had no clue what was in it, but she kind of liked it. "This one's quite good."

"Lucky you." He rubbed his eyebrow. "Sorry about leaving you by yourself like that. They wouldn't let me go. The upside to that is, that I now know who is married to whom, how many kids they've got, what their political views are, on what, etcetera, etcetera. We bonded, and I think they've accepted me into their midst. We can leave in a few minutes."

"And then? Are they going to give us a tour around town?"

Lex's bloodshot eyes widened. "I hope not! I was planning on going to bed and sleep until dinner."

"I thought you were of the opinion that it would be better to stay awake and 'go with the rhythm of the day'," Chloe teased. "Wasn't that how you put it to James?"

Lex snorted. "I was being lyrical."

"Ah, more secrets of your success." She emptied her own glass, stifled another yawn. She wouldn't mind a few hours of sleep herself. Mister Wong distracted himself from one of the groups and moved towards Lex and Chloe. "We're having dinner with the whole assembly?"

"No, just the Sparkling Sources people. I'll tell you their names later, I'm too tired to remember who's who at the moment. But I have all their business cards, and assigned animals and traits to them, so…

'Hello, James." Chloe did not miss the change from Mister Wong to James. Clearly Lex had also managed to get into Wong's good graces. "Has everything been taken care of?"

"Yes," Wong said, picking up a tiger prawn from a tray and munching it, tail-bit and all. He showed Lex his surprising, appealing grin. "I believe they are all satisfied. You must be very tired. Perhaps you would like to rest for a bit?"

"Not particularly," said Lex. And somehow that meant the same as 'Yes, and right now if you please,' because ten minutes later Feng Lao took them back up with the elevator, and at two-forty-five local time Lex tossed his tie onto a chair, kicked off his shoes and let himself drop face-down on his bed.

Chloe looked into the adjourning room that had been reserved for her, sized up the Luthor-covered bed—not as big as Lex's bed in Metropolis, but big enough—and resolutely dragged the suitcase containing her beauty case and night clothes into Lex's room.

"Why'd they give us two rooms?"

Lex made a noncommittal sound. It sounded Chinese.

"Well, I'm not going to sleep in another room."

"Of course you aren't," Lex said. He pulled himself upright again, began to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. "You're going to sleep right here next to me. Ugh…Would you mind if I showered first? And where did I put my toothbrush, because god, those fish-thingies were vile!"

"You mean those round puff thingies with the black sprinkles on top? I thought they were quite nice."

Lex shivered. "Viiiile," he drawled, put his shirt on the same chair his tie was already occupying, stepped out of his pants and hung those over the back of the chair as well. As he strolled into the bathroom, Chloe noticed that even the pink of his gunshot scars was starting to fade to white. It would take quite some time before those scars were completely gone, but she was relieved they were at least fading.

December scars. With those visible scars disappearing, she hoped the _invisible_ January scars were fading as well.

She unlocked her suitcase and started to dig around for her beauty case and a nightie. Before she'd even found the latter, Lex stepped back into the room, only partly dried off, eyes half-closed, not even bothering with boxer shorts or any other clothing.

Chloe raised one eyebrow. "You look like you have plans," she said.

"Huh?" He blearily looked down on glorious nakedness. "Oh. Well, not really. I just don't feel like opening my suitcase." He searched for access to the bed. It was covered with a bedspread and said spread was tucked tightly into the frame, barring entrance.

Chloe grinned. "Are you even going to be awake when I get out of the shower?"

Lex pursed his lips. "If I made a strenuous attempt, I might be able to pull it off."

"My hero."

"…but I can guarantee nothing."

She stuck out her tongue. "That would be showing weakness."

Lex made a soft sound of triumph when he found an opening and yanked the bedspread down. "Better be quick then," he said dryly, ducking under the covers. "Lend me strength and all."

Chloe laughed. "You weakling, you!" But she showered in five minutes flat, brushed her teeth and found, upon reentering the room, that her Knight in Shining Nothing still had a gleam of eye shining through the fringe of his lowered lashes.

She crawled in next to him and draped herself against his side. "You were victorious, gallant sir," she said, and kissed the tip of his nose.

The gleam disappeared, but his mouth curved, and she kissed that as well. "I was, I was. So, can I stop jabbing pins into my fingers now, and go to sleep?"

"You're no fun, Lex."

"Damn it, woman, I'm tired! Do you know how hard it is to crack the defenses of those damned impassive Chinese people? But fine, you want fun, let me get my karaoke equipment."

She giggled. "Karaoke? Why Lex, I'd never figured you a karaoke lover. Would you sing 'I'm too Sexy' for me?"

Lex snorted. "Only if you sing that breathy French song, what's it called… "Je t'aime...Moi Non Plus" in return."

" I don't know the lyrics to that one."

"Just reach orgasm."

"Sounds like a great song. French orgasm in D-minor."

"I rather think it's G-major," Lex murmured. He rolled to his side, pulling her a little closer, thereby initiating the gradual turn that would end up with him lying on his stomach and, if Chloe didn't watch out, her pushed to the very edge of the bed.

She pushed him back a little, closed her eyes. Koi carp and dragons danced against the backs of her eyelids—and suddenly she remembered the conversation in the car, with Wong.

"Lex, why did you tell Wong that I was your business associate?"

"I didn't," Lex replied sleepily. "I just told him you were my associate. He put 'business' in front of it by himself."

"But why?"

"Because he probably would have balked if I'd told him you were just my girlfriend."

"Just your girlfriend."

He squeezed her arm. "Don't blame me for Chinese conservatism. They're all for business relationships, but if I had told him to get me a visa so I could bring my girlfriend, the chances are pretty high he either would have flat-out refused, or simply not done his best. And it would have been worse if I'd let them know you were a reporter. Not related to me, not related to the project, but very much related to the Daily Planet? They'd have barred your way with cattle prods."

"Is that so."

"I imagine it would be. Of course I couldn't be sure. But you're here now, and that's most important, isn't it?"

"Hm."

Lex sighed. "In what way," he asked, "have I insulted you this time?"

Chloe wasn't sure, exactly. Perhaps the 'just my girlfriend' part. Or maybe his way of thinking. "I'm proud of being a reporter."

"I know that. I'm proud of you, too. But they wouldn't have let you in if they'd known you are a reporter, and I wanted to have you with me, so I fed them a little white lie. I should think you'd be happy I hadn't started spouting huge black smothering lies."

She smiled, even though she didn't want to, and searched for a way to hit him without changing her position. That proved impossible, so she just poked him in the side. Then something else occurred to her, and she chewed on it for almost a minute before asking, "It's really difficult to get a visa for China, isn't it?"

Lex's voice was heavy with sleep. "It isn't very difficult to get a visiting visa. As a tourist. It is when you come on business. To build factories. I've been here once before as a tourist but because this is an official visit…" He trailed off, probably hoping she'd leave the whole thing alone and let him sleep.

He was so very, very wrong. "How long d'you think it would have taken Wong to arrange our visas? Six weeks? A month?"

"Something like that," Lex murmured faintly. He was heating up, like he always did before dropping off, and Chloe shifted and put her hand on his chest. His reaction to a weight on his chest when he was lying on his back was not as severe as it had been a few weeks ago, but he did go from boneless to alert, if not tense.

"How did you know I'd go with you at that time?"

"Hm?"

"Well, we…I mean I…We fought." He snorted. "You must have hated me."

"Hm."

"Why did you tell Wong to arrange a visa for me if you weren't even sure we'd still be together?"

"The one big uncertainty that was on MY mind," Lex drawled, and while he still sounded sleepy, a hint of his old biting sarcasm had slipped back in his voice, "was whether I'd be able to go to China at all, because of certain threatening jail sentences or court cases."

Chloe winced. He sighed, removed her hand from his chest and curled up around her. Too late she realized it was his next step to his belly-down sleeping pose.

"As I figured it at the time," he continued, sarcasm gone, "it would be easier to, IF we'd fallen out, and IF you didn't want to come with me, tell Wong that you were indisposed, than to cancel your visa entirely. After all…" he pressed her shoulder, "No, I wasn't pleased with you, as I take it you weren't all that happy with me. But I never hated you, and I've always wanted you back. So…

'But you're here now, and I hope not against your wishes. Why are we even talking about this?"

"We aren't. You're right. It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't?" Lex murmured. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe tomorrow," Chloe said.

"That's a good song as well," reflected Lex, and in proud possession of the last word, finally was allowed to go to sleep.

TBC


	3. Chapter 2

Two: Dining experiences Two: Dining experiences

Chloe had been afraid the dinner that evening would be a most horrible affair. She was, therefore, pleasantly surprised when it turned out to be quite enjoyable.

At seven-thirty, Mister Wong came to collect the both of them, and when he saw her high-necked, American-Chinese dress he told her she looked very beautiful, and she had the pleasure of feeling Lex hover. After her own embarrassing displays of sick jealousy she thought it a welcome change to have Lex acting possessive, too. And for Wong, no less! She'd sooner start dating meteor freaks again.

But just to keep Lex invisibly but tangibly glowering, she gave him a flash of full wattage. After all, Lex had been a little too fond of teasing her with Valerie.

She forgot all about inspiring jealousy, however, when they arrived at the Mayor's house, where the dinner was about to take place. Even though he was not part of the Sparkling Sources group, as the Mayor, Fengfei felt obliged to welcome the newest arrivals, especially since the combined efforts of LeXCorp and Sparkling Sources would bring about such a great change in his lovely but under-developed town. He held a long speech, which Lex translated softly into Chloe's ear, which basically came down to "Welcome, people, I am looking forward to seeing you change this town and create many jobs; please ask for, and accept, any help from me you may need, and now, let's eat." He then led his guests to a tall, narrow chamber, and bade them sit down at the table.

It was an ordinary table, with ordinary chairs. Chloe was vaguely disappointed; she'd expected a table with tiny legs and pillows on the floor. But, she figured, this was probably a lot more comfortable. The only time she'd spent an extended period of time on her knees was when she'd painted the strip of wall below her radiator, and her knees had ached for days afterwards. And, of course, when blowing Lex in the shower. That never lasted very long, though.

Mind: get out of gutter. Behave. Think food, not sex.

The party consisted of five Sparkling Source people, Fengfei, some unfamiliar person who apparently was a friend of Fengfei's, Lex and her. They were led to their seat by a woman in a traditional dress, who might be Fengfei's wife, or daughter, or sister. To Chloe's alarm, she was placed on a chair two seats away from Lex. "Wait," she said, with visions of sitting through a three-hour dinner with Mister Hua, but Lex patted her arm and told her to keep her hat on.

"We're seated by age," he murmured. "But don't worry. The woman opposite of you speaks English. Remember? She calls herself Crystal. I think she's nice, you'll like her."

They had gone through his business cards collection

_('Hung. He has a parting in his hair made with a razorblade. Turkeys make a sound that sounds like 'Hung' when you cut off their necks. That's what he's got the razor for.'_

'_Lex, your mnemonic devices are harder to remember than their names!'_

'_It works for me. Hua…'_

'_He looks like a Chinese opera mask.'_

'_That's cute. I thought of him as 'Pinocchio'…')_

Crystal Shanyuang, or rather, Shanyuang Crystal, was the granddaughter of the big hotshot Manager. She was one of the two women in the joint venture, and was about Chloe's age. At the meet and greet earlier that day, Chloe had hardly recognized her as a woman since she had been dressed in a smart suit, and had short hair. Now she saw her again, Chloe felt somewhat ashamed of her racist inability to distinguish one Chinese from the other.

Just like Chloe, Crystal had dressed for dinner, and her sylph-like figure was girlishly feminine in a tight, high-necked and low-backed dark green dress. She had a beautiful jade pendant in the shape of a flower around her neck, and with her suit she had also relinquished her businesslike attitude. She gave Chloe a friendly smile across the table.

Before the first course was served, Mayor Fengfei made another speech, this time entirely wasted on Chloe since no one translated it for her, and then the mysterious woman in the traditional dress brought in first soup, then spring rolls and dumplings, and finally bowls and bowls of rice, vegetables, tahoe, chicken, pork and the ever-present duck, and a lot of other things Chloe couldn't identify but which (mostly) tasted lovely.

Lex had told her she should try everything that was offered to her, no matter how unappetizing it seemed, which meant that she tasted a little bit of everything that was served. She was just expected to fish a few chopsticks full of food from a serving plate and put it in her bowl, then eat it and pick something new when the next dish came along.

And while that meant that she never got enough of the truly good stuff, it also meant that the horrible chewy bit of pork ear was quickly swallowed and even more quickly followed by a delicious morsel of chicken in sweet sauce. She knew how to use chopsticks, and the ones she found next to her bowl were exceptionally beautiful. When she spent a few seconds admiring them, Crystal leaned forward and whispered, "I think they're made of bone, or even ivory."

Her English, Chloe realized after she'd gotten used to the accent, was actually very good. Crystal had a strange way of pronouncing the r in the middle of her mouth, or swallowing it entirely, and sometimes her grammar was a bit off, but there was no trace of the awkwardness Mister Hua'd had, or really most of the other older men, too. She was much easier to understand than Wong.

Chloe was so relieved she forgot about being impassive and grinned widely. "Really? And is that real gold? And is that a ruby?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Crystal said. "Well-to-do families usually take great pride in displaying their ancient chops."

That had been during the spring rolls. By the time they'd come to the endless number of main dishes, they were chatting away like school chums, just like the rest of the businessmen. At first, Chloe tried to grill her about the Sparkling Sources project, but Crystal sternly waved a slice of carrot at her and said, "No talking business during dinner!"

Business was a subject non grata during dinner. However, two pieces of duck, two bites of rice and a mini corn cob later, she was discussing her marital status, or rather, non-marital status in greater detail than Chloe had ever heard at an introductory dinner.

"My father had chosen a suitable husband for me," Crystal said, in a tone that told Chloe that the father was a well-respected man, but also that he had been sadly mistaken in his choice. "I did not think him very suitable. I mean, he was ten years older than me, and his hobbies were zhé zhǐ, which is paper-folding, and poi."

"Poi?"

"Yes. It's…it's like juggling. With balls on a rope, and long streams of paper or silk ribbons connected to them."

Chloe stared at her with her chopsticks halfway suspended between her bowl and her mouth. "Those were his HOBBIES?" She'd thought men who collected stamps were somewhat pathetic. But origami and juggling? Good god.

Crystal took a sip of wine, nodding. "Yes. He probably expected me to make his poi for him, or put his 1000 cranes on a string." She used her sticks to separate a piece of fish from its bones. "I studied _Soil_ Nutrient management and Chemistry. I had no desire to fold cranes or dance around with poi. So I went to my grandfather and asked him to please give me a job, so I couldn't marry yet. My grandfather believes in nepotism." She grinned. One of her lower front teeth was grayish, probably because she'd once fallen as a child and broke it off at the roots. It was the only flaw in her otherwise engaging smile. "He got his job from his uncle as well. So he gave me this job, as a…how to say…a soil analyst."

"And you like it?" Chloe asked, trying to find a way to pick up a broccoli flower with fingers that were beginning to cramp after an hour of chopstick-handling.

"Yes. Very much. Do you enjoy your work?"

"Yes, I do," Chloe said evasively. Better not bring up her reporter roots. "What do you think of this town?"

"I haven't seen much of it yet; we've only arrived yesterday and the weather was quite bad. I only saw soil samples before. The Buddha statue is nice, though. It's too bad we won't be here during the Spring Festival. Apparently the organize a big festivity with flowers and…what is it called? Possessions?"

Chloe pictured a group of white-eyed zombie-like people screaming for brains in a storm of flower petals. "Processions?" she guessed, smiling a little. "Like a parade?"

"Yes. Processions. That's what this town is famous for—the flower festival and the Buddha. You should go and see it tomorrow. The Buddha, I mean."

"I will," Chloe said. She made a mental note to ask Wong to arrange something with that Zhen guy's sister, the one with the little Engrish. Lex was probably going to be occupied with day-long meetings and business-bonding exercises, and she didn't think she'd be able to fill ten days with shopping alone.

During the rest of the dinner they talked about the differences between Metropolis and Shanghai, the merits of being an independent woman and whether feminism should also mean a woman should repudiate male gentlemanly behavior, like opening doors for the lady, pulling back chairs for them, and paying them compliments. They both agreed that they could accept special treatment as long as they were able to wield brutal girl power.

By the time the woman in the traditional dress—a Cheongsam, Crystal said it was called—served several platters of marinated fruits, tarts, puddings and ice cream for dessert, Chloe had learned five phrases of Chinese, was determined to visit Shanghai, and had exchanged phone numbers and email addresses with Crystal. She'd had a very pleasant evening. She was full, one the company was already a good friend, and she was looking forward to investigating Shueng.

When she and Lex were dropped off at the hotel another two hours later, she was fairly bouncing with enthusiasm. Lex observed her rocking on her heels in the elevator with a curled mouth.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes! Surprisingly yet thoroughly! Crystal's very nice."

"I thought you might like her. The old man, her grandfather, Shanyuang, also happens to be a decent guy. I thought he was a stuck-up pig at first, but no, he's quite nice. Hua's very sympathetic, too."

"Did you find out how old his children are?"

Lex chuckled. "The boy is five. The girls have just reached puberty, I think. He told me to wish you a pleasant evening. He's still mortified he couldn't answer your questions properly."

"Aww. That sweet man!"

Lex opened the door to their room. "Ah."

"What is it?"

"They've unpacked my suitcases." He opened the door to the adjourning room, looked inside and smirked. "Yours too. And put everything into the closet in this room."

"That's too bad," Chloe said. She went to collect her tooth brush and make-up remover. "I will not be banished to the other room. God, I'm full! Did you taste that pig's ear? It was so gross!"

"I don't know," said Lex, undoing his tie as if it were a lasso, with short, careful jerks. "It's a bit like pork-flavored chewing gum."

"That's disgusting. The chicken was nice, though. And I liked that yellow paste. Do you know what that was? We had it for desert."

"I think it was made of flower petals."

"Flowers again…" She started wiping away her eye shadow. "This town's really famous for flowers."

"So I heard. Not many to see this time of the year, though." He placed himself in the bathroom doorway, languidly undoing the buttons of his shirt while he watched her cleanse her face. "I talked to Wong. You'll have a car at your disposal tomorrow, and someone to take you into town so you can get used to the place. He also assured me that you can ask Feng Lao to accompany you."

"That's nice." She tossed her used cotton wad into the dustbin. "I don't supposed I can confiscate Crystal to take me shopping?"

He laughed. "I don't think she'll be allowed to take you shopping. Besides, she doesn't know this town any better than you. But I'm sure we'll have an afternoon off someday, and then you and her can go and shop yourself a hernia."

"That sounds like fun."

"Well, I remember Paris…"

"This isn't Paris," she said, with a bit more force than she intended. Because no matter how much she'd liked that mini vacation at the time, looking back on it all she felt was unease and a sharp pang of guilt. Her cheeks heated up, and she looked down, blindly felt for the moisturizer.

Lex went to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Sssh," he said. He kissed the top of her head. "We resolved that, remember? I lied to you, you betrayed me. And then you tore out my heart, so I raped you; subsequently you clawed open my back and I strained your wrists. Both cheeks turned and slapped. Nothing but love and peace. There's no need for emotional breakdowns and guilty blushes."

Despite herself, she quirked a smile, looked at their combined reflection in the mirror. Lex was smirking at her over her head, his expression somewhat cynical yet entirely without malice. "You're totally insane."

"Other people have concluded so, too, yes," Lex said unperturbedly. He flipped open the buttons that hid away the top of the zipper at the back of her dress. "These people are now either dead or deposed because they were lying, or have been proven wrong and are now the honored inmates of the asylum they suggested I inhabit. Oops, that's not a very nice thing to say, is it?" He pulled down the zipper an slowly brushed the fabric from her shoulders, trailing his fingers over the soft curve of her collar bones and shoulders.

The caress was rather distracting her from her current need to Talk Things Over. "This is not about you being mad. It's about…"

But Lex had no intention to let her spoil his intentions with remorseful whining. "Let's not discuss my lunacy," he interrupted her, and undid the fastening of her bra. "Or Paris. We're in China, after all. Lift your arms, there you go. Now, how tired exactly are you? I need to get up at eight; we're starting the first meeting at nine, but of course you can sleep in, if you want. So…" He pulled her against him, and Chloe abandoned her guilt trip with a small sigh. She bent her arms back and wrapped them around his neck, leaning back against his chest.

"When you say let the bygones the bygones, you really do mean it, don't you?"

"Absolutely. You got my eye, I got yours, and we exchanged teeth, too. We can share what's left over."

Chloe giggled. "'Man with upper dentures seeks woman with lower dentures to chew bread together.'"

"Well, that wasn't quite what I had in mind…but if you insist…" He tipped up her chin and kissed her. As usual when he put his heart, or rather his tongue, into it, it made her feel a little weak at the knees.

She turned around and laced her fingers together behind his neck, searching his face for any trace of resentment and finding none. "You know, Lex. With eyes or teeth or without…I do love you."

"I know," said Lex, and kissed her again. "The feeling is mutual. But I'm more attractive with them, and I think you are too."

There was no way Chloe could get up when Lex energetically jumped out of bed the following morning. She just groaned and pulled the duvet over her head, shutting out the sounds of showering and dressing billionaire. After a while Lex pulled a flap of cover away from her face and kissed the one part that was reachable: her right ear.

"I'm leaving. I'll be back at the hotel for lunch, so it would be nice if you'd meet me downstairs."

"Hunn…" Chloe grumbled. She'd never get used to the lash-backs of jetlags.

"I just love your eloquence in the morning." Lex said brightly. "It's that illimitable perkiness. I can't resist it." He sounded as fresh and awake as if he'd never spent over twenty-four sleepless hours on a plane. "I'm leaving the keys to the rental on the table, here. You can drive around town if you like, and, like I said yesterday, if you need a guide you can ask Feng Lao."

"Ok…" she muttered, wishing he and his vigor would leave the room and leave her in peace. She couldn't even open her eyes; it was physically impossible.

"Well, then." He walked to the other side of the room, then returned and fondly patted her head. "See you at lunch. If you get held up in town, call me, alright?'

"Ok…" And then her eyelids finally unstuck and rolled up as a loud smacking sound followed by a tinny "I love you!" screeched into her ear. "Jesus Christ, Lex!"

He dangled the monkey-key chain from his index finger and grinned. "Wow. They're hazel!"

She made a grab for the monkey, but he put it out of her reach on the night stand, and she growled with frustration. "How come you're so damned lively? _You're_ the one who's supposed to be half-dead, not me! I slept on the plane!"

"You're a woman?"

"Do you want to have sex tonight?"

"Oh, we're resorting to threats now? Where is my camera…"

"_Lex_!!"

He grinned. "Alright, alright, I'll go. Have fun. I left the envelop with cash in the drawer of the cabinet. Bye!" He was wise enough not to try to kiss her again. But when she woke up again two hours later and saw the monkey perched on the edge of the night stand, she smiled, squeezed it, and forgave him yet again.

Since it was already eleven by the time Chloe finished dressing after a late breakfast, she decided she could save her window shopping till the afternoon and do something that wouldn't take much time until lunch.

The Buddha.

When she came down to the foyer, she was greeted by the politely smiling receptionist behind the counter. Two women tended to a couple sitting in the lobby's leather seats; one providing coffee, the other explaining something or other in Chinese. Feng Lao was down here as well. She recognized him by his cowlick, which was particularly stubborn, and the serious expression on his round face. He was watering the plants with a huge green watering can. Chloe made her way over.

"Ni hao, Feng Lao," she beamed, and he turned around.

"Nin hao, Miss Surrivan." He put down the can on the floor. "You have a good nigh?"

"Yes, I did, thank you," she said, and repressed her tendency to bow with every sentence. Somehow, these people made her want to bow. "Say, Feng Lao…Can I call you Feng Lao?"

"Of course."

"Right! Please call me Chloe, then. Um…I'd like to go out and have a look at the Buddha, the one in town, not the one on the mountain. I was wondering, could you come with me? I don't really know the way, and Mister Wong said you wouldn't mind playing guide."

"Yes, of course," said Feng Lao, looking a bit glassy.

"Um, was I going too fast?"

He smiled, and suddenly she liked him, because it transformed his sad, polite face into something that was almost impish. She had no idea how old he was; he could be anything between twenty-five and forty, but that smile made him look very young.

"I'm sorry," he said, with the same mid-palatal r/l hybrid Crystal used. "My English not very good."

"Oh, nonsense! You're doing just fine. What I was asking was," she slowed down and pronounced her words with exaggerated lip-movement, "Could you come with me and show me the Buddha in the square?"

"Ooh!" Feng Lao said, nodding. "Yes. Of course. One moment please!" He picked up the watering can again, watered two more plants, then hastened to the counter and quickly spoke with the man behind it. The receptionist gave a sharp nod. Feng Lao took off his red jacket, folded it and left it behind the counter.

"I will get my coat," he said to Chloe.

Five minutes later they were driving in the rental car, a car of Chinese making Chloe had never seen in America. She sat behind the wheel. Feng Lao told her to go left or light.

Chloe estimated Shueng to be a little bit larger than Smallville. It had a church as well as several temples; when she asked Feng Lao, he affirmed that there were two practicing religions: Catholicism and Buddhism.

"What are you?" Chloe asked, inquisitive as always. "Buddhist or Catholic?"

"Buddhist."

"Is your wife Buddhist as well?"

His head snapped around, slanted eyes wide and almost fearful. "What?"

Chloe almost ran onto the curb. _Uh, I thought this was the standard way of Chinese people to break the ice._ "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be…It's…You're wearing a ring. I wasn't sure Buddhists wore wedding rings and I thought she might be Christian. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Oh," the man said. He exhaled slowly. "No. No, you haven't offend. I misunderstand. My wife is Buddhist, too. We also wear rings."

"Ok." She waited for his question whether she was married, but he did not ask.

"Here to the left," he said. He pointed out of the window. "Here is Fengfei _zhèn__zhǎng_ house. Mayor house," he explained. "Big mansion."

"You can say that again," Chloe agreed. She stole a peek at the name plate on the lattice gate. It was shaped either like an elaborate swan, or like a phoenix, with what she presumed was Fengfei's name spelled out in characters on its chest. "We had dinner there, yesterday. He has the most amazing chopsticks."

"Yes, of course," Feng Lao said, and she thought she detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but when she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, his face was as serious as always. "Here left again. And now light. Here is market every…_zhōu__wǔ_. Day before weekend."

"Friday?"

"Yes."

"Cool. I'll make sure to go this Friday. What kind of market is it? Just food, or a bit of everything?"

"Yes," said Feng Lao, and Chloe decided that it would be more fun to find out by herself anyway, so she didn't repeat her question. One turn later she drove into the square and parked her car just outside the shadow of the Buddha.

It really was enormous, easily forty foot high, and about three thirds of that wide. The Buddha was sitting in the lotus position, both foot soles turned up, in a park that had to be built specifically to host the statue. One of its arms was missing—broken off during the earth quake, Feng Lao explained, and lost at that time. The other arm rested, palm up, on its left knee. Its face was plump and serene, with half-open eyes and a pouty-lipped Elvis-smile. A chunk of its cheek and ear was gone, too, but the overall condition of the statue was impressive. It was chiseled out of a light gray stone with small black bits in it that glittered in the cold sunlight.

"It's magnificent," she said, gazing up through her fingers. "How on earth did they manage to get it down from the mountain?"

"Wood," Feng Lao said. He made a rolling movement with his hands. "They cut down trees. Roll statue on trees. According to legend, the entire village helped bringing Buddha down."

"Must've been a heck of a job," Chloe muttered. She reached out and touched the Buddha's little toe. It felt cold and rough, very clean. There wasn't a trace of moss or dirt on the statue, let alone bird shit, as was always the case in Metropolis. As she looked around, she noticed the same applied to the rest of the park. The large, flat stones of the path were spotless, the spaces in between dark with sand, not a single blade of weed to be seen. The flower beds surrounding the path only contained flowerless shrubs and a few bare rose bushes, but they, as well, were lovingly tended. No graffiti, no chewing gum, no empty beer bottles.

"You take good care of the statue," she concluded.

Feng Lao shrugged. "It's Buddha," he said. "He created and watched over this town; we should return favor. Besides," he smiled faintly, "it brings in the tourists. We can't expect him to charm people when he's all dirty."

Chloe laughed, but his face reverted back to its usual serious expression again, and she turned back to the Buddha. Sure, Feng Lao was a good man, but god, what a dead poet! Maybe he had marital problems. She took a picture of the Buddha's face, and asked Feng Lao to make one of her standing next to its foot.

"Is the Buddha on the mountains as big as this one?"

Feng Lao handed her back her camera. "Yes. It is significantly smaller. Very nice, though. It has crystal eyes. At noon, you can see them sparkle if you stand righ here, in the park."

"I'd really like to see it. Can you take me there, too, someday?"

He looked doubtful. "I can…But my job…And you'll need a horse. You can't walk, it's too long."

"A horse?" she asked, equally doubtful.

"Ah, you don't need be afraid. Jing Zhen always takes people up in the mountain. She rents out the horses. They're quite tame. No riding skills required." Another of those humorless smiles.

"This Jing Zhen…is she the sister of one of the Sparkling Sources people? I mean one of the locals who works for the company?"

"Yes," Feng Lao said. And he added, "Perhaps."

Chloe sighed. The unwillingness to give a negative reply, even if that was the only reply possible, was getting on her nerves. It made her want to childishly aggravate people to make them say 'No' to her once in a while. She looked up at the sky. It was clear blue, with a fluff of white clouds at the horizon.

"Do you think it will snow again?"

"Yes," said Feng Lao. "Probably at two o' clock. We had bettel return to hotel."

Feng Lao's weather predictions had been off by forty-five minutes. It started snowing at exactly one-fifteen, when Chloe and Lex were having lunch in the dining room of the hotel.

"Huh," said Chloe. She gazed at the whirl of snow flakes outside.

"Hmm?" asked Lex, looking up from his sandwich.

"I want to take Feng Lao with me to Metropolis and let him replace that no-good weather guy from Channel 4."

"If I remember correctly he said it was going to snow at two. He's sloppy."

"Damon Richie usually claims it's going to rain when it's Sahara dry. And he predicts sunny weather when it's pouring."

"It's the equipment. He can't make sense of it. Or maybe the people who actually give him the information can't make sense of it." He picked up a tiny dead fish from a small bowl filled with such small bodies, and studied it with a frown.

"How did you meeting go?"

"Well. Very well, as a matter of fact. I thought they were going to kick up a whole lot of dirt before signing the contracts, but as a matter of fact everybody seems eager to get things started here."

"Your glass factory."

Lex smiled. "Yes."

"Are you ever going to tell me what exactly it is you're going to build here, apart from a glass factory?"

He chuckled, gave the fish a lick, reconsidered, and put it to the side of his plate. "Oh, alright, then. We're going to build a glass factory up in the mountains, and produce fancy-looking bottles, and those bottles we're going to fill with water from the spring even higher up in the mountain."

Chloe put down her cutlery (thank god, no chopsticks for lunch). "You're going to bottle mineral water?"

"Yes. However, if you put it like that it sounds kind of dull." He smirked. "Which is exactly why I left you to your own devices to find out about it. It's much more fun if it's a mystery, don't you think?" He took a sip of coffee. "But seriously, though. It's a really good deal. This place has so much potential. They're an ambitious little town; they're really trying to get somewhere. And with the factory, and the jobs it will provide, they can finally get a chance to get on the map. Combine the job opportunities with their flower festival—you're right, they're really into flowers, here—and you've got a major tourist trap."

"Won't the factory completely ruin the landscape?"

"Mm." He swallowed a piece of bread. "No, because we're going to build it in some sort of high plane behind that mountain over there. You won't see a thing of it in town, and with LuthorCorp technologies we can also keep the waste to a minimum. No hovering clouds over this sweet town. We'll get the sand for the glass out of a mine deep in the mountain—it used to hold semiprecious stones, but it's been declared empty. It has deep layers of sand very suitable to produce fine quality glass—and the water from the spring, so it will be an almost completely self-providing enterprise. All I'm going to build is the actual factory and the technology required to make the bottles. Sparkling Sources will make the water installation, and arrange for a proper infrastructure, and the town will do the rest."

He gave her a satisfied grin, and even though she still couldn't see how a glass factory for spring water bottles could make him so excited, Chloe was nevertheless infected by his enthusiasm.

"Cool."

"It's more than cool. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to start a business in China? I just did. And it will be lucrative, too." He half-closed his eyes, radiating complacency, and it had been such a long time since she'd seen that expression on his face—an expression that made Clark and Lois foam at the mouth and reach for sharp kitchen utensils, but that, somehow, made Chloe want to pull Lex's head down by the ears and kiss him silly—that she laughed aloud.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm glad you're happy."

"I am! Oh, and tomorrow afternoon we're going up into the mountains if the weather allows it, and have a look at the place where we want to build the factory, and of course at the spring, but also at the ruins and the newer temple. There's some guy…he was at Fengfei's house yesterday, who seems to know a lot about the temple and suggested he give us a tour. Do you want to come along?"

"Sure!" She picked up one of the tiny fish herself. It looked dried and extremely dead. "Won't your business partners frown at the presence of 'just your girlfriend'?"

Lex shrugged. "As if I care. Let them frown." He watched with great interest as she put the fish into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. "How does it taste?"

"Salty. Not bad, actually."

"I keep thinking it's actually bait. Or feed for those big koi carp."

"Maybe it is. Funny to serve those together with sandwiches."

"We're probably supposed to eat rice and vegetables. And little dead fish."

"You prefer live fish?"

Lex looked disgusted. "I once had live fish. When I was in Japan. It was all filleted and prepared—raw, but hey, sashimi is raw too. But when I tried to pick up a bit of it, it kind of…gasped, and opened and closed its mouth and rolled its eyes. They even have a name for those kind of dishes: the Cruel Kitchen. I don't know who was more shocked at the whole situation, that fish or me. God, that must have been the most terrible dinner I've ever had. "

Chloe chewed another fish. She thought she might buy a bag of those and take them with her to Metropolis, if only to gross out her friends. At least they were properly dead. "I read that the Chinese do some pretty gross things with their food as well. Like…roasting live mice in oil, like fondue."

"Hotpot," Lex nodded. "If it moves, you catch it, and if you've caught it, you can eat it. I think they eat everything that has four legs apart from a table, and they might even make an exception at that."

Chloe shivered. "Rats?"

"Yes, I think so. And almost hatched eggs. They just boil them and then they have both egg and meat."

"Eeew!"

"Ah well. The Scottish eat sheep in sheep stomach. Haggis. Which actually tastes quite nice."

Leaving the fish alone, she returned to her boring, tasty crab salad sandwich. "You've actually eaten a lot of disgusting local delicacies, haven't you?"

"Mmm. Well, you have to, when you're doing business." He drank more coffee. "I see it as an alternative form of playing chicken. They want to dare you to eat their disgusting food, and if you do, and manage without gagging, you're worthy of being their partner in production."

Chloe laughed. Trust Lex to straight-facedly dip grasshoppers in bile sauce to charm his business associates. "Which was the worst?" She thought he might ask her whether she really wanted to know, especially while having lunch, but of course he did not such thing.

Lex thought for a while, chewing his chicken sandwich. "The Cruel Kitchen fish was pretty nasty. And I ate something in France that was just…It tasted like…I don't know. I think it was actually a bit of pig's rectum, and that was exactly what it tasted like. Mmm…" He chewed some more. "Tripe was horrible. The French cheese with the maggots that they actually ate was rather revolting too, but I claimed I was allergic to goat's milk, so I could skip that one. And, let me think…"

"Uh, no, thanks, I think I've heard enough."

He grinned. "I must say I prefer chicken sandwiches, too. But really, most of the time finding out what it is you're eating is worse than actually eating it." His grin faded, became a little harder. "After all, I've done the live insects on my private little island. I'm not that easy to gross out."

_Good god, _Chloe thought. _Even that horrid experience only contributes to the success of his enterprises. _

Not liking the sudden bleak look in his eyes, she put her hand on his. "You poor thing. I will never force you to eat my cooking again."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your cooking will always, and has ever been, a lot more appetizing than my maggot mash. Even though," he mused, mouth curling again, "that meat loaf thing you made two weeks ago…"

"Don't push it," said Chloe, and threw a tiny dead fish into the remnants of his coffee.

Lex smiled.

He picked up his cup.

"No," Chloe said. "You won't."

And of course he did.

TBC

I know, I know, still no torture, violence or hardcore sex. Be patient…:D


	4. Chapter 3

Three: Phoenix Fire and the path of the Buddha Three: Phoenix Fire and the path of the Buddha

In the afternoon, Chloe went into town to explore the shops—this time without Feng Lao—and Lex went back to his meeting.

Today's meetings all took place in Shueng's conference hall. Tomorrow's morning meeting would be at the hotel. The conference hall boasted higher technology. The one thing they did have was chairs that could be adjusted in height, and for that Lex was very grateful. He wasn't exceptionally tall, but he was taller than the general Asian, and he could still remember a nightmare HazOp day in Korea spent on a chair that was too low for him. It had taken him HOURS to swim the crick out of his back and the pop out of his knees.

No, these chairs were very comfortable. The 'higher technology' made him chuckle—just like the Sparkling Sources people—but on the whole he was quite satisfied. It was more than he had expected in a backwater little town that couldn't even be reached by car properly.

What they were discussing now were those annoying, small, but highly significant tidbits that could eventually make or break a business cooperation.

In this case, it concerned the shape of the cap on the bottle. He was amazed that Sparkling Sources made such an issue out of such a trivial thing, but they did. Lex wanted a recyclable plastic turning cap. They wanted either a metal crown-cap, like a beer bottle, or a bidon-like closing lid. It seemed to Lex an easily surmountable difference, but no, it took them three hours of heated argumentation, and by four, he felt as if he'd gone through three rounds of mental pro-wrestling with an illithid. And they still hadn't reached a decision. Let alone started on the shape and look of the label. Or whether the bottles should be completely clear or faintly blue or green-tinted.

Deciding to put the cap aside for the time being, they quickly agreed that the current lay-out of the label was total crap, fought over the color of the bottle for over an hour, and decided that tomorrow was another day. By that time Lex gingerly felt his ears, hoping his brains weren't dripping down his cochleae. Meetings, fine. Conferences that lasted three days, no problem. The same in Chinese…Good god.

Mister Shanyuang regarded him with a small smile, said something to his granddaughter. When Crystal addressed him in English, Lex almost cried with relief.

"Yu _jingli_ would like to invite you and Miss Sullivan for dinner," she said. "We are having dinner at the hotel, in the Lung room on the fourth floor, at seven-thirty. You are both most welcome." She changed her stance, glanced up at his face and smiled a little. "My grandfather would appreciate it if you attended," she added. "And I would like to add to that, that you shouldn't be afraid he'll invite you every evening."

"Ah," said Lex noncommittally. _Thank god. I think I can handle one more evening of Chinese conversation. Then I need an evening off or I'm going to pick up something heavy and mutilate myself._

"Thank you. We'll both be there. Will it be formal or informal dress?"

"Oh, formal," she said, smile growing. "My grandfather is a traditional man. Business attire is accepted, though. I myself will put on yet another gorgeous silk dress, none of which are actually mine. But first…I am not sure the staff told you. The hotel has a…a work-out room. With a swimming pool, and a sauna. You will need a pass to access that floor. I don't know if you have been given such a pass?" Lex told her he hadn't. "I'll have it arranged," she said, then bade him good afternoon and disappeared with her group.

Lex declined a ride back to the hotel, preferring to clear his head and walk the two-mile or so distance. The hotel could be seen from the conference hall, since the latter was built on higher ground than the first; he had no fears of getting lost.

Over the afternoon, most of the snow that had fallen around noon had thawed away again, or had been cleaned up, and even on Gucci soft-soles he was quite comfortable strolling through the all but deserted streets. Here and there the local youth was smoking cigarettes, he met several couples doing some late afternoon shopping, and once he was greeted by a young woman walking seven dogs at once, but on the whole the people had gone inside to flee the cold of the incoming night.

_They didn't know what they were missing,_ Lex thought. The sun was lowering behind the mountains now, painting the sky pink and orange, and lighting up the snowy peaks. Somewhere in the dark rocky mass something glittered, and he was reminded of the story Chloe had told him, about the Buddha with crystal eyes.

Such a romantic tale. Maybe the romance grew dull after living in it for your entire life. After all, Smallville had had some pretty spectacular traits as well, and the dramatic sunsets had been one of the least of them. After a few weeks he hadn't even bothered lifting the blinds anymore.

He took a deep breath, watched the plume of smoke drift up as he exhaled. The scent of hearth fires spiced up the clean mountain air, and for a moment he closed his eyes, thinking of Smallville. Funny. Here he was, in the middle of nowhere in China, and the smell of the place reminded him of nowhere, Kansas.

His lip curled. _I have been permanently contaminated by Smallville. It's like hell, it's a state of mind and you take it with you wherever you go._

But then the very alien smell of jasmine incense drifted out of a small, shrine-like building as he passed it, and memories of Smallville retreated to the very back of his mind, especially as a low murmur of Oh Mani Padme Hum joined the smell of the incense, and soft bells began to tinkle. He stood and listened for a moment, relishing the other-cultureness of it; feeling a shiver of anticipation run over his back when, as the sun disappeared entirely, red street lights blinked on and cast the road and the shrine in a red hue.

He took his phone from his pocket, flipped it open and called Chloe. It was far too wonderful to be outside to go back to the hotel, even if it did have an entire floor devoted to physical exercise. And god, he needed someone who looked into his eyes when he talked to her, and who spoke that lovely, uncomplicated language he had suddenly found a new appreciation for.

"Hey Lex!" she panted as she picked up. "Where are you?"

"I'm outside."

"Outside? Outside the hotel, you mean? I'm still in town, I'll head back as soon as…"

"No, no, stay outside! I'm in town, too. Where are you?"

"I really have no idea. Where are you?"

"I'm somewhere between that big conference hall building and the hotel. Why are you breathing so hard?"

"Well…" she drawled, "You know Mister Wong and I are having this hot, steaming affair…"

"Uhuh." When not confronted with actual visual proof of male interaction with his girlfriend, Lex could keep as cool as a fish.

"But seriously, I've been running around like mad trying to find my car."

Lex stopped in the middle of the street and laughed out loud. "What? You've lost your _car_?"

"Don't act so damned condescending, rich boy. I must've passed it somewhere, but I can't find it anymore, and in the dark every car looks the same." She sighed. "And so do the streets. I can't…Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you ok? Did I step on you?"

Lex heard some vague mutterings in Chinese in the background, too low for him to understand. "What is it? Did you run into someone?"

"Well, not exactly run…" her voice had lost all traces of flippancy. "There's someone lying here on the ground."

He felt a stab of alarm. "Don't touch him! Step away from him, he might be…"

"It's not a 'he', Lex. It's a girl. She can't be older than fourteen or so. I sincerely doubt a girl will clobber my head in." Lex remembered the hordes and hordes of meteor-mutated teenagers that had been more than capable of clobbering his head in, but decided this was probably not the time to bring that up. "She doesn't look so good. Hey, are you ok?"

The girl said something. Lex strained his ears to hear her through Chloe's cell. "What's she saying?"

"I don't know. Shong? Shuang? I can't understand her very well."

"_Xiōng_…" the girl gasped. Chloe must keep the phone closer to her mouth, because he could hear it clearly this time. "_Xiōng__mēn__. __Fèng__huáng__huǒ_…"

"Can you understand her?" Chloe asked.

"I think I do." Lex looked at the deserted streets, wishing he knew where Chloe was, and hating he couldn't do anything to help the girl she'd stumbled into. "She's complaining of pain in her chest. And…there, she's saying it again, _Fèng__huáng__huǒ_. It means Phoenix fire."

"What is phoenix fire? Apart from a Harry Potter cure for feather-loss?"

"I don't know."

"Uh, you know, I don't think this girl is doing very well. She's sweating like hell. What's the emergency number here?"

Lex gave her the number. He had memorized it the moment he had read it in the Hotel list of Important Phone Numbers. "But do you know where you are?"

"Uh." She fell silent for a while. In the background the girl was breathing harshly. Lex did another useless pirouette, indecisive which way to go but unable to keep standing still and do nothing. "No. I passed a street sign not long ago, but I can't read it."

"Are you close to the Buddha in the square?"

"No, I'm not. This is just a street. With houses. I know! I'll go to the nearest house, knock on the door, and give them this phone. You have to explain to them what's wrong, and then they can call an ambulance, or take the girl in themselves, AND tell you where I am so you can come and pick me up."

Lex was impressed. It actually was a solid plan. "Right. Do it."

Half an hour later Lex was standing next to Chloe, thanking the woman and her husband for the cup of tea and their willingness to call the ambulance. The first phrases he'd uttered by phone after Chloe had thrust said phone into the woman's face had been, '_Please help the girl on the pavement. She's ill. The woman in front of you is called Chloe Sullivan, and she doesn't speak Chinese. Please call an ambulance_.' The second stream of words that had left his lips was '_What is your address and how long does it take me to get there from the Chong Fa Leng road?_'

Thankfully, the woman who had opened the door had been more surprised than frightened, and after a bit of confusion she had hastened outside to check on the girl. Her husband had then taken over the phone and given Lex directions. He'd been a brisk walk away, but Lex had remedied that small problem by calling a cab (he'd memorized that number as well). By the time he arrived, the ambulance was already there, and the girl was being secured on a stretcher and taken inside.

"_Will she be alright_?" Lex had asked. All he got was a shrug and a mystical "_It's Phoenix fire. She's still alive, so…probably_." Before he could ask the girl's name, she'd been put inside and swept off to the hospital with howling sirens.

"_Do you know what was wrong with her?"_ Lex asked the helpful woman and her husband. They gave blank looks, muttered something about the '_youth and their desire to try out illegal substances_' and invited them in for a cup of tea to recover from the shock.

So Lex and Chloe took off their shoes and had tea in the couple's sitting room which, Lex made sure to let Chloe know, was pretty remarkable. Usually, Chinese people weren't so eager to let strangers into their house. They must have bonded over the girl's collapsed body—and so, he figured, even bad habits could have positive effects.

When they walked back to the hotel, having decided to abandon the search for the rental until tomorrow, Chloe hooked her arm through Lex's and gave his elbow a squeeze. All of a sudden he realized he had barely had the time to greet her properly, and so he did so now, under one of those bare sinister trees with a cawing bird in it.

"Humm..." Chloe said when she had her tongue back. "Did you miss me?"

"What makes you think so?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." She grinned. "Your nose is really cold." She put her hands on his ears. "And these are going to fall off in a few minutes. Why didn't you wear a hat?"

"Didn't bring one with me. It's ok."

"You don't want to take a taxi?"

"Do you? Are you cold?"

She stroked the thick fake-fur collar of her coat—one of her Parisian acquisitions. "Not me! And I'm fine walking for a bit, as long as it won't be for hours, because I've already crossed half of the city."

"Yet I notice a significant lack of shopping bags."

"They're in the car." She sighed. "All I have with me is a couple of post cards. There was this lovely little shop with red lanters, with all kinds of those memorabilia you hate so much, and I bought them there. But they had like five different entrances, and I must have taken the wrong one out, because when I got out, I didn't recognize the street, but they had lots of lovely shops too. So I looked around there for a while but I guess I...well. I got lost. And when I finally found my first shop back, it had closed, and I couldn't get back in and take the proper exit. I was trying to walk around it when you called, and I think it was a good thing you did, because I wasn't getting anywhere."

She looked up at him with carefully constructed innocence.

"Damn, I hate it when you do that," Lex said.

The innocence grew…and became unconvincing. "Do what?"

"Take away all my options to make fun of you for losing your car."

"I'll find it back," Chloe said with a shrug. For a while, she walked next to him in silence, before saying, "That girl was really lucky I found her."

Lex's thoughts had returned to the girl as well. "Yes," he said softly. "She was."

"It's so weird. All day I walked around here thinking 'wow, this place is unbelievably perfect'. Because everybody was really friendly and helpful, even if they didn't understand diddly squat of what I was saying, and it's clean and pretty and…Well, it's like a Chinese version of a Miss Marple town, you know. Everybody seems to know one another—or at least, they all say hello. And now it turns out this quaint little town is just like Smallville. Plenty of icing, but there's definitely something off in the cake."

Lex nodded. "It seems really EVERY village and town has drugs problems. Then again," he rubbed one of his numb ears, "I guess I should go and start to hunt for the witch in the gingerbread house if there weren't. I mean, it's a bit like the Cosby Show. All black people but no one has an addiction? That's just…unnatural."

Chloe, he found out, had by now learned to imitate his smirk. She didn't wear it often, but once in a while he found his own expression curving her mouth, and he saw it now.

"Lex, you're a horrible racist."

"No, I'm not," he protested. "I'm only being sensible. It's just like you said: no matter how perfect this town may look, I'm sure they have their problems like any other town."

"Phoenix fire," said Chloe.

"Apparently."

"Well. At least we got a cup of tea."

"Yes. That was nice." He checked his watch. It was a little past six. "We should walk a little faster or call a cab after all. The Sparkling Sources folk are expecting us for dinner at seven-thirty." Chloe made a short, high humming sound. "You don't mind, do you? If you do, I can call it off."

"No, no," she hastily reassured him. "It's fine. It's just…do we have to dine with them every evening?"

"No. Just today and maybe two times more, somewhere later this week. Yesterday was introductory for both groups, village and entrepreneurs, and tonight is to establish a social understanding between them and me. Well, LuthorCorp. After that, social etiquette will be satisfied and we can stay well away from one another in the evening."

She laughed. "You really love those people, don't you?"

Lex snorted. "Ask me again when I haven't just sat through a meeting about bottle caps that lasted three fucking hours, and I might actually answer that with a wholehearted 'yes'. At the moment…not so much. But," he raised his chin, "I will be polite and charming, and show nothing of my nigh uncontainable urge to shove one of those bottles up Yu _Jingli's_ tight butt until it hits the stick that's already lodged there. After all, I am a gentleman. And gentlemen, I've been told, don't shove bottles up their business associates' butts."

Chloe chuckled. "Wax on, wax off," she murmured cryptically, but when he raised his eyebrows in question, she waved her hand and told him she was sure that somewhere, some benevolent teacher was very proud of his talented grasshopper.

"I think you're confusing two things, now," Lex said. "Mister Myagi didn't train grasshoppers."

The dinner was elaborate, nice, and uneventful. Crystal wore another lovely dress, this time of cinnamon brown silk with gray and light blue cranes embroidered on the back. Her earrings were cranes as well.

"A present from my almost-husband," she entrusted Chloe. "I could not bring myself to give them back." Communism, it seemed, still hadn't won it from Capitalism in China.

"Did he give you a poi necklace as well?"

Crystal giggled. "No. That would have been nice, though. Perhaps I should suggest it to him for his next conquest."

Over the main course, Chloe mentioned her run in with the girl with the chest pains and the Phoenix fire, hoping Crystal would know anything about a drug with such an exotic name, but the other woman shook her head and sucked thoughtfully on one of her chopsticks.

"Ah, what a waste. So it's the same here as it is everywhere. What a pity." She scraped her rice together in her bowl. "Are you coming with us tomorrow, when we're going to visit the temple, and the mine, and the spring?"

"I'm definitely going to try," Chloe affirmed.

"Try?" Crystal asked.

"Apparently we have to go by horse."

"Ah, that. They're more like ponies. I already saw them. Are you allergic to horses? Otherwise it shouldn't be a problem."

"Let me guess," Chloe said morosely. "You ride horses in your spare time."

"Actually, horses terrify me," Crystal replied. She smiled. "But if you go, I know I can go too."

"Deal," said Chloe. And she drank to that.

Early afternoon that following day, the whole Sparkling Sources group, Lex and Chloe gathered at Miss Zhen's office at the foot of the mountain. The business suits were gone and replaced by jeans, sturdy shoes, thick jackets and woolen hats. Chloe thought they all looked marvelously incongruous—almost like ordinary tourists. Mister Shanyuang was wearing a jolly red hat with a white plume. Mister Hua flashed sunglasses only pimps wore in Metropolis. One of the other men (Lex had dubbed this one Madonna because of the mole on his upper lip) had safety-pinned his gloves to his jacket like a little kid, and yet another wore bright yellow shoelaces.

Lex, in comparison, was nothing out of the ordinary, but to see him in jeans and Dr. Martens, with a dark blue knitted hat on his head, was enough to make her want to reach for her camera.

Poor thing. He must feel so out of place in ordinary clothes. _But he really must wear a hat. It's either a hat or ear muffs, and he wouldn't want to be caught dead in those._ Yesterday it taken more than an hour before his ears returned to a color that marginally approached his usual color, that is to say pink instead of flaming red.

On the other hand…She now knew he could produce the sound that was commonly recognized as a squeal. He'd made that sound when she had licked one of his thawing ears when he wasn't paying attention.

God. One would almost say the man is human after all.

The man who had been present at the mayor's dinner was named Fu Yang. What exactly his position was never became clear to her, but he said he knew a lot about the temple and the mine, and that he and Miss Zhen would take them up into the mountains and show them around.

Unlike Miss Zhen, Mister Fu Yang did speak a little English, but his accent was so horrible he might as well have spoken Swedish; Chloe perhaps understood three out of every ten words he beamed at her. If she heard him correctly they were now going to the stables to 'cheese holes', and she doubted it had anything to do with cheese, and more with horses.

Finding Lex in conversation with Mister Wong, she jogged up the path to Crystal instead.

"Why is it," she asked Crystal in a whisper in case Fu Yang's understanding of the language was better than his pronunciation, "that so few people speak English here, and most of those who do, are completely incomprehensible? I thought everyone was taught English at school?"

"In the bigger cities, they do," Crystal said. She was wearing a hat in the shape of a panda bear's head. It had small black ears that gave her a cute but somewhat disturbing look. "And the younger generation generally speaks some English because of the internet. But the older generations…they can't be bothered. And teachers aren't always…how you say…their own teachers weren't always good. Most people have very good grammar, or at least know the rules, if not to apply them. But you still can't understand them, because they don't know how to pronounce the words. It is a big problem."

They entered the barn. The smell of warm horses and hay hung heavy but not unpleasantly around them. "Your English is very good," said Chloe.

"Thank you. I try. My teacher was very good. She had studied in Manchester."

"You're better than Wong."

Crystal giggled. "Ah yes," she whispered, "but he learns his English from Terminator 2. He told me. He's watched it over ten times. That is why he has an Austrian accent."

Chloe laughed. "You're kidding me."

"Ask him if he'll return when he's leaving," Crystal said. She shied away from a horse's head that suddenly thrust out to her and tried to nip at one of her panda ears. "And listen carefully to his reply." She laughed. "You'll see what I mean."

Fu Yang and Miss Zhen, a small, thickset, plain-looking girl, appointed ponies to the group. "You lide befole?" the latter had asked Chloe, and she'd shaken her head to make sure she wouldn't be assigned to a spirited mount. "Then you get Ping." Miss Zhen led Chloe to the back of the stables and told her to pet her temporary transportation device to create some sort of bond. "Like key ignition," Miss Zhen said, and Chloe thought that was rather sharp of her.

The pony was a grayish-brown color, had blond manes that hung into its eyes, and stood chewing patiently on its bit with an expression that reminded her a bit of Lois, when she was waiting in line for a cigarette dispenser. Miss Zhen told her it was literally an it, although it had been born male, and that its name, Ping, meant peaceful. It was rugged and squat and looked most of all like a walking footstool. There was little elegance or coquettishness in its short, sturdy legs, but on the upside it was broad, flat, and relatively close to the ground, so even a potato-rider like her wouldn't fall off and make a fool of herself.

Lex stood in front of his pony, regarding it with a strange kind of fond sneer while he patted its fetlock. This pony was bigger than Ping, and it regarded Lex with a calculating eye, but it was still a pony. Hardly an Arab true blood, let alone a Ferrari. Chloe skipped back to him.

"You know how to ride?"

"I used to have horses myself, when I was younger. At the Ranch, remember?" Yes, of course. He'd even owned the stable Lana put her horse in. _Goddamn it._ _Is there anything this man CAN'T do?_ "Never horses that looked quite like this, though." His mouth broadened, and he leaned towards her. "Actually," he whispered, "I think...I'm too sexy for this horse."

She let out a squeal of laughter, hastily muffled it with her hands. Crystal shot her a curious glance, but Chloe waved her hand in a 'nothing to see, keep walking' gesture, and the other woman went back to petting her pony.

Chloe nudged Lex's arm. "I don't think you're wearing quite the right shirt to make such claims."

"Is that so? Would you like me to dress in leather pants and net shirts?"

"Lex, I would DIE to see you in leather and net shirts."

"Tsk," Lex clacked his tongue, making his pony flick its ears. "And here I was thinking you had moderate good taste."

"Lex, I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but I think the entire WORLD would love to see you in leather pants and a net shirt. As in, they would pay you money. Lots of money."

Lex feigned shock. "What has the world come to?" But he was smiling, and Chloe resolved on the spot that the very next thing she'd buy for him was the tightest, most vulgar-looking net shirt she could find, and make him wear it the first time they'd be alone again in Metropolis. He looked a bit weird in jeans and hiking boots, but she had the idea that he'd look completely natural in a skin-tight see-through tank top.

She grinned widely.

"What the hell are you picturing me in?" Lex asked, but before she could tell him Mister Fu Yang asked if everyone was ready, and whether they'd follow him, and she just shot him an evil grin and mounted her walking footstool.

It turned out to be even more docile than she had expected; it started to walk the moment she had hooked her feet into the stirrups, and followed Crystal's pony, that was in front of her, without a single pull at the reigns. Apparently it was friends with Crystal's mount, for whenever the path allowed it, Ping shambled up next to her and continued alongside of her, walking so close Chloe and Crystal had to change their position in the saddle to avoid getting their legs crushed.

The air was crisp and cold, with the bite of snow, but the sky was pale blue and there was hardly any wind. The sun had that almost blinding white light that you only saw in the country; undiluted by smog, reflecting harshly on the lighter parts of the rocks, and glittering on the snowy tops.

"This place is so beautiful," Chloe said to no one in particular. She glanced back at Lex, one pony behind her, but he was looking at the mountain peak to his right, eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

"Yes," Crystal replied in his stead. "It is. It is so...wild. I bet they still have condors here."

Simultaneously they turned up their faces to the sky, but there were no birds, and they both chuckled.

At the head of the line, Fu Yang called a question, which made Lex shrug and call something back. "He's asking whether we want to start with the temple, which is closest, or with the mine, which is furthest," he translated for Chloe's sake. "I told him I didn't care."

"I don't care either." She spat out a horse hair that had somehow made its way into her mouth. "I think the temple will be the most interesting thing around, and might therefore be left to the last…but if the other things'll take more time than expected we won't have as much time to explore the temple, so…I wouldn't mind seeing the temple first."

"Good point," said Lex with a teasing smile. "Very un-businesslike."

"Hey, I'm here for fun! I'm allowed to be self-centered."

"I didn't say you're self-centered. Self-serving, perhaps, but that in itself is a very healthy characteristic."

She snorted. "I bow to your wisdom, oh spiritual leader."

He was not at all insulted. "I'll confer your preferences to our guide." He gave her a mocking little bow, nodded at Crystal and drove past them.

Crystal followed him for a while before turning back to Chloe with a funny expression on her face. "Would you mind me asking what your relationship is?"

Chloe laughed. "Not at all. We're not married, in any case."

"I gathered that." She gently dug her heels into the pony's side, trying it to move faster. It ignored her completely. "But you do have a relationship?"

Chloe kicked her pony as well. It made a snorting sound, gave her a long-suffering look and continued in the same, slow, shuffling gait. "Well, yeah. You might say he's my boyfriend."

"Was he your parents' choice?"

Chloe laughed out loud. "Eh, no. No, he wouldn't be. He's all mine."

"I…see."

"Why?"

Crystal flapped the reins. The pony kept on ignoring her. "Well, you don't fit the usual standards. As I know them, that is. You see, your way of…how to say…addressing one another? It would make sense if you were married for some time. But not for short-time marrieds, nor fiancés or lovers." She grinned widely. "Not enough doting."

"Oh," Chloe said airily, "He dotes. Don't worry, he dotes. But he prefers to do so when nobody's looking. You see, it spoils his Bad Boy image."

"Bad Boy?" Crystal asked. "Is he a Bad Boy?"

"You don't believe Lex is a Bad Boy?"

"He seems very…straight. No, that is not what I mean. Honorable. Straightforward, that was the word I was looking for. He makes a very good negotiator."

_He wears first-class masks, _Chloe thought. She shrugged. All of a sudden she didn't want to discuss Lex's layers. Crystal was a nice girl, but she was still basically a stranger. Chloe didn't talk about Lex's weirdness with her closest friends and family, let alone with a woman she'd only just met. So she ended the conversation with a quip: "He makes a lot of very good things," and tried to kick her pony into gear.

Ping was not impressed.

"Crystal, how do you say 'Go faster!' in Chinese?"

"Dā, qū xiāo!" Crystal cried, and kicked her heels into the horse's flanks. It gave a huge snort and began to gallop. "Yaaaaaaaa!!" Within moments, she had overtaken all the other ponies still on the slope, and gone around the bend of the path, disappearing from sight.

"I'll be damned," Chloe murmured. Ping seemed to be as perplexed by the sudden velocity of its friend as she was. "Well, what's it gonna be, now, eh? Are you just going to let your friend run off like that?"

Apparently, Ping had exactly that in mind. "Da, qu show!" Chloe shouted.

"Let me help you," said Mister Wong. He moved up to her and gave Ping a slap on the rear. The pony stopped. It was so peaceful it could not condone violence.

"Gee, thanks," said Chloe, and then she had to stifle a giggle when Wong showed all his great many teeth to her in his idiotic, apologetic grin.

"Wait," he said. He reached into his pocket and came up with three sugar cubes. Ping's ears moved around and, as Wong and his sugar moved forward, the pony followed.

"Da qu show," Chloe whispered.

"Qū xiāo!" Wong agreed, and it turned out Ping wasn't as much peaceful as he was a racist. Because the moment the words left Wong's mouth he gave a little jump and spurted up the path.

**Three: Phoenix Fire and the Path of the Buddha (part two)**

After about half an hour's ride, Fu Yang and Miss Zhen gathered the whole party together at a road junction, where they could all stand around in a circle. Ping immediately shuffled up to Crystal's pony and pushed its nose against its neck.

_Heya, bud. What's with the racing, man! Hardly recognized you there._

_I don't know, man. It's those magical words. Da qu shiow. Whenever someone says them, I just gotta run._

_Homey, I got ya there. But you gotta chill, dude._

_Word._

Fu Yang was blathering on in Chinese, and both Crystal and Lex were listening intently without translating, so Chloe imagined some more horsey dialogue. For some reason, Street fitted them perfectly. All they needed was low-slung pants and they could pose as Hope's best friends. After a few more sentences, however, Lex maneuvered his pony closer to hers, and said, pointing, "That path over there leads to the ruins of the original temple. It's quite steep, and because of the snow yesterday he recommends not using that path at the moment—perhaps in a few days. In a bit, when we've ascended to that, no, that peak over there, we'll have a clear view of the ruins, so we can at least see it from a distance."

"But we're not going to visit the ruins today."

"No." He leaned a bit closer. "I suggest the first free day that comes up. Be that tomorrow or not until the weekend; I'll be damned if I let a bit of snow keep me from a place I want to see."

Chloe hid a smile. Trust Lex to insist on seeing ancient ruins he wasn't even remotely interested in before, only because someone told him he couldn't. "That's a good idea. What more did he say?"

Lex pointed up the other path. The Sparkling Sources people were already urging their ponies up that way, some more successfully than others. Mister Wong had changed alliances again: he was now leading Crystal's mount up the mountain.

"It's another ten minutes before we see the Second Buddha, and it's ten more minutes after that until the temple. We're going to leave the horses near the big statue, and then go to the temple on foot. You've lost your aficionado, by the way."

"I noticed."

"I could have told you that the Chinese are fickle when it comes to steaming affairs. They steam quickly, but that's only because they heat up and then cool down so very fast."

"Once again I bow to your superior knowledge."

He grinned widely and squeezed her thigh. "It's a pity the temple probably won't have any windows."

"My subservience's making you lascivious?"

"That sentence sounds so much better than its meaning warrants." For one moment she thought he might throw caution in the wind, rip her from her horse and kiss her in a way that would make Scarlett think Rhett was an in-closet homosexual, but he stopped himself before he could do more than lean towards her, and snorted at himself. "Let's not stain this precious moment of ancient civilization and culture with outbursts of our baser urges, shall we?"

"Fuck you," Chloe said sweetly.

Lex laughed. "Oh, you will." He looked away from her as Miss Zhen called something and spurred her pony towards them. "Come on," he said, his voice dropping as the other woman got closer. "Get your pony turned around before we get lost and have to spend hours on our own in a self-dug hole, lying wrapped around one another naked under our clothes to preserve body heat."

It sounded like a very good idea to Chloe. But she nodded sagely and said, "Yes, that would be awful." She pulled at the reins. Ping still refused to budge.

"Mm. Imagine what I'd have to do to your nipples to keep them warm."

"You are such a bastard and I am SO going to make you beg tonight," she informed him, just as Miss Zhen arrived and, with a polite smile, took Ping's bridle out of Chloe's hands and proceeded guiding the animal through a U-turn.

"Promises, promises," Lex said blithely. He clacked his tongue, and his damned pony turned as smoothly as any of his sport cars.

The statue suddenly came into view as they reached a peak in the road. One moment all one saw was the road and the mountain behind it, the next the crown of the Buddha's head appeared, and as they one by one passed that one high point, the rest of it, too. Despite herself, Chloe couldn't repress a gasp of awe.

It was truly a magnificent sight: a smoke-colored being sitting in the middle of the winter-green rise of the mountain, its crystal eyes gleaming in the sunlight. It was almost too beautiful to make a picture of, but after a moment of reflection on sanctity she unclasped the cover from her lens and took several pictures. She was sure Buddha didn't mind having his picture taken. Besides, if this town would attract the hordes of tourists the people were hoping for, he'd be turned into a post card within the hour.

"Won't you take a picture?" she asked Lex, who was still riding next to her.

He shook his head. "I'll leave it to you. Somehow, I always end up taking pictures of knees and shoulders. Click away, I brought an extra memory card." For a moment, he stared at the Buddha, looking back at her only when she chuckled. "What?"

"You can't take proper pictures? That's so cute."

"No," said Lex patiently, "it's a deficiency. I usually pretend I'm so jaded I can't be bothered with taking pictures, but that's the hard, bitter and embarrassing truth. But I'm, shall we say happy?…you think me being unable to do something less than perfectly is…cute."

Chloe blinked. _That sounds unpleasantly like Lionel. _She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, searching for signs of guerrilla mode, but he had put his sunglasses on again and she couldn't see anything. "Don't be too hard on yourself."

"Oh, no," he drawled, and now she knew for certain that she should be careful with her words. "No. Now I know that you think it's…cute…I pride myself on what I have always considered one of my gravest shortcomings." He gave her knee another pat. It was a gesture of affection, but somehow it made her want to flinch. She wished to god he'd take his shades off. "You take the pictures. Me, I'm going to say hi to old Bodhisattva over there."

She couldn't resist. "Technically, he's no longer Bodhisattva. He's…"

"I know, Chloe." He picked up the reins, which he had dropped while they were standing still, but she pulled at his sleeve, and he stopped. "What?"

"Are you mad at me?"

He took off his glasses. His eyes were mocking, but honestly surprised. "Mad at you? No? Why should I be?"

"You're inflecting Lionel."

His brow furrowed in dismay. "No. Really?"

"Yes."

"My apologies."

"You're doing it again."

"Well, fuck me." And that was so very unlike either Lionel OR Lex himself that Chloe laughed, reassured. She snapped her own reins, and to her delight, Ping started to walk again, and even ventured into a slight run downhill. It made her bounce up and down like a sack of flower, but it was fun, fast, and not half as scary as riding on Lana's huge horse.

Lex grinned. He passed her by halfway down. "You're such an Amazon," he called softly. "Maybe I'll buy you a pony when we get back."

"Don't mock your girlfriend in the face of Buddha!" But he was out of hearing range already. A few minutes later she reached the statue and the others herself, and tied Ping to a pole. It immediately shuffled closer to Crystal's pony. Lex had been hauled away by Mister Hua, but Crystal was waiting for her a few steps away from the horses.

"I think they must be married," she said, pointed at Ping and friend.

"Probably," Chloe agreed. She jogged up to the other woman. "It's nice. The Buddha, I mean."

"Absolutely. Come, let's hurry, before we lose the others."

"I think Terminator 2's looking out for us," Chloe giggled. Crystal turned around, saw Mister Wong standing at the bend of the path, and giggled as well. Tittering like a couple of school girls they ran up the rise, past Mister Wong, past Lex and Mister Hua, until they ran out of breath and fell in step with the guide and Mister Shanyuang.

But ten minutes later Chloe stopped and grabbed for her camera, and took a picture of Crystal, right hand held up in the victory sign, with a real life temple in the background.

After seeing the Second Buddha, somehow, Chloe had expected the temple to be huge, lavish and covered in statues, frescoes, gold paint and gems—or at least painted glass. She had imagined a handful of orange-clad, bald monks leading tigers by a leash, and some sort of Dalai Lama-like individual welcoming them with folded hands and wise words.

She was somewhat disappointed. There was no one around.

The group had gathered around Fu Yang again, who was talking loudly and gesticulating as if he were personally building the temple out of thin air. Chloe dawdled away from the incomprehensible man and took pictures of the shrine's façade.

At first sight, she thought the temple looked as Temple of Doomish as she could possibly want: it had an elaborate entrance with ivy-covered, cracked pillars that seemed to have been hewn out of the very face of the mountain. Two niches on both sides of the entrance held a smaller version of the Buddha a bit further down the path, and a twenty-inch statue of a god with four arms. One of the god's feet was raised, the other trampled a pained-looking dwarf. It was a rather dynamic, even violent statue compared to the serene Buddha, and something about it seemed off to Chloe.

Fu Yang had stopped talking. She pulled Lex's arm. "I thought Buddhists didn't revere other gods?"

Lex smirked. "Technically they don't. All they want is Nirvana. But before you reach Nirvana your crops die, and your children want food, and your wife demands new shoes, so you look for an alternative because Buddha himself isn't all that concerned with material wealth anymore. So they borrow the Hindu gods for a while." He jerked his chin at the statue. "That's Shiva. He's a hell of a lot better at protecting your crops than Buddha."

"Have you been reading Lonely Planet travel guides again?"

"Nah. Basic knowledge. And our guide just said basically the same thing."

She thwacked his arm, and he chuckled.

Mister Wong overheard. "I am sorry," he said, stepping closer to Chloe. "I forgot you couldn't understand what he was saying."

"That's ok," Chloe said, smiling brightly. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I just _did_," Lex whispered, but she said 'Hush!, Go inside and listen to what else our guide tells you!' and pushed him towards the opening. He took a look at Wong's eager face, glanced back at her and shot her another smirk. "Alright. Do you need a chaperon?"

"Lex!"

He ducked inside. Thankfully Wong didn't seem to have been able to follow that last bit; he looked politely clueless. All of a sudden, Chloe felt a bit sorry for him. At least he was trying. "So, about Shiva," she urged. "And Buddha."

"Ah, yes," Wong said. "Yes." He went back to the Buddha statue on the other side. It regarded them with half-closed eyes, like a cat; a fat, complacent, lazy cat dozing in the sunlight. He gave the impression of complete, self-absorbed disinterest—different than the statue in the square, which had been serene and loving, and even its larger version down hill. Chloe wondered if the difference was intentional, or even really there. She wasn't sure.

Wong brushed aside a few wilted flowers. "The people here," he started, "they worship Buddha. He watches over them, and gives them calm. But when disaster stlikes, they cannot turn to him for divine intervention. Buddha is a meditator, not a giver of boons or a dispenser of favors. He does not even wish to be worshiped!" He picked up a handful of brown petals. "He will not accept any offerings other than flowers. Earthly matters are beneath him, because he reached the state of Nirvana."

He walked back to Shiva's statue, pointed at the hands of the deva. Chloe saw a trident, a stone flame, and several other things she didn't at once recognize. A snake curled around his chest and one arm, its head almost hitting the side of the niche as it was spun about by the dancing god. "The Hindu Gods, on the other hand," Mister Wong continued, "are happy to bestow boons on everyone who repays them with worship, whether it is for wealth, protection, health or power."

"Did the other temple have a Shiva as well?"

"Plobably," Wong nodded, slipping with the r again. "We should visit the ruins as well, when the snow is gone."

"Sure," said Chloe. Lex wouldn't want to wait until the snow was gone. If anyway possible, he'd want to go while the snow was still _there_. She took a step back, took a photograph of Wong with both entrance and statues, and gestured with her lens at the dark passage inside. "Shall we?"

"Yes, of course," said Wong, and let her go first.

Inside, the Temple of Doom resemblance ended. The interior was minimalist to say the least. The whole thing consisted mainly of one long passage leading to a large room deeper inside the mountain. The walls were mostly bare and smooth, with only a small statue in a niche in the square room at the end of the passage. It was the Buddha again, only this time it wasn't sitting but standing, its eyes were open, and in the light of Miss Zhen's torch its black irises studied those standing in front of him with cool indifference. A large, marble bowl stood in front of the statue, and as they were standing there Fu Yang picked up a thin stick from the edge of the bowl, placed it in the center in a hole so it stood straight up and lit it with a lighter. The pungent scent of incense spread through the room.

Fu Yang spoke again, softer this time, as if unwilling to draw the intention of those staring black eyes, and Lex translated softly in Chloe's ear.

"This statue is actually a lot older than the one on the hill, probably as old as the one in the square. It was taken from the original temple, but not at the time that that temple was ruined. It suddenly appeared in this room about twenty years ago, and no one can explain how, who did it, or why. Originally, the small Buddha in the niche outside was located here. The niche held a statue of a Bodhisattva. When this statue appeared inside, the Bodhisattva disappeared. Some say that Bodhisattva ascended and became this Buddha. Most people think that's bull shit." Chloe twisted her head around. "Freely translated," Lex allowed, and she grinned.

For several minutes they had the time to explore the shrine, but while it had interesting acoustics and a pleasant atmosphere, there was actually very little to gawk at, and not much later they returned to the horses.

From the spot where the Second Buddha was situated, they took another road that would lead to the spring that would yield the water the Sparkling Sources were going to use in their mineral water business.

There was another spring, Mister Wong translated for Chloe, deeper into the mountains. The village used that source for drinking water and industrial purposes. It surfaced only half a mile north of the city. This spring's stream, recently renamed Sparkling Spring, bubbled from the rocks high in the mountains, just below the snow.

They saw glimpses of the stream as they climbed higher and higher. The spring was not exactly a hot spring, but the water was lukewarm, and therefore did not freeze quickly. At its highest point, right where it sprung out of the ground, the air was also the coldest, and because of the spray the water had shaped itself into a strange funnel.

Everyone took a sip of the water—which felt ice cold and not lukewarm at all, Chloe thought as she wiped her red fingers on her pants and hastily donned her gloves again—and then they continued on to the mine, where the glass would be won.

By now her legs and her bum were sore of Ping's broad but hard back, and she was glad she could walk for a little. She sidled up next to Lex.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we found a forgotten treasure hidden away somewhere in there?"

Lex smiled. "Believe it or not, but it's worth more now, empty, than it ever did when it was stuffed with gems."

From a distance, the mine had looked like a tiny black hole in the mountain, but when they got closer, it turned out to consist of a wide, high corridor hacked out of the rock. Caves opened wide like giant rooms on either side. In preparations of the industry, the villagers had put electric lights at regular intervals on the walls and ceiling, and a generator to keep them going at the entrance of the mine, so they didn't need torches to be able to look around in the caves.

_How considerate of them_, Lex thought to himself. He stared around with the eager eyes of a total layman when it came to sand and gems. He'd seen a lot of caves—he'd spent most of his Smallville time in those fascinating underground Kawatche caves –but he was no spelunking man. Every glitter in the wall made his heart beat faster, even though he knew, without knowing what kind of stone was reflecting the light, that it could not be precious. If it had been, it would have been removed.

Unlike in other mines he had visited, his footsteps didn't echo. The floor was covered with a thick layer of very fine, light sand—perfect for the making of glass, Crystal affirmed, while she let a handful of the sand slide through her fingers.

Fu Yang led them through the corridor, warning them not to go off on their own. Not because they could get lost; the caves were limited; but because they might stumble and hurt themselves in the darker passages. The moment it was out of the man's mouth, Lex felt an inexplicable urge to go and head straight into the other direction.

"Uh, no," Chloe said, when he hesitated at the mouth of a dark cavern. "Let's not, ok."

"You're no fun." She hadn't even heard what the guide had said, since he hadn't bothered translating it.

"I like my ankles intact, thank you."

"Oh, suit yourself." There was nothing there, anyway. Where the caves appeared untouched by human hands, they hadn't contained anything interesting. The miners had hewn out a clean passage through the rock wherever the gems had sparkled in their lights, and had left the rest well alone.

"_Up ahead_," Fu Yang spoke up, "_is the down-shaft. Over the years it has half-filled with the soft sand you will find underneath your feet. It is approximately ninety feet deep. It is said that the crystal for the Second Buddha's eyes was taken from this shaft. If you look carefully, you can see it glitter in the light_."

He walked up to an enormous hole in the ground that took up most of the corridor. A thin ledge led around it. "Look," he said, and took out his flashlight again. The party crowded around the hole, and a soft murmur resounded as the beam of light hit the glitter of crystal deep down below.

Suddenly, Shanyuang, who was standing next to Lex, at the very left of the ledge, uttered a startled cry—from the corner of his eye, Lex saw a wildly flailing arm—and then the other man went down into the shaft. More out of instinct than anything else he shot out his arm and caught the man's wrist; the next moment Shanyuang's weight pulled him down and yanked him over the edge of the hole. His free hand scraped over the wall, then the ground, without finding a hold. He was slipping in the fine sand.

"Yé!" shrieked Crystal.

"Lex!" Chloe screamed, but at that moment his chin hit the ground and the impact made his ears ring, drowning out all other sound.

He was about to be dragged down after Shanyuang into the pitchy darkness when his palm slapped against a bit of stone he could wrap his fingers around; he grasped it, tightened his grip around the older man's arm and yanked himself to a stop.

"_Don't let go_!" Shanyuang cried. His fingers clawed into Lex's arm. "_Please don't let go_!"

"_Stop moving!"_ Lex barked back. Shanyuang wasn't a big man, but he was still fully grown, and he was all but tearing Lex's arm out of his socket. "_Keep still, I've got you_."

Yes, he got him, but he couldn't go anywhere. He lay spread out on the steep decline, legs akimbo and trying not to slide in the loose grit, with only the jutting piece of rock to keep him in place. Because of his gloves his palms could not grow slippery with sweat, but nevertheless he could feel something warm and wet trail down his wrist, and the stone was so cold it numbed his fingers.

"_Some help here_?" he gritted out between clenched teeth. It felt like ages since Shanyuang had lost his balance, even though it couldn't have been more than seconds.

"_Don't drop me!"_ he gasped.

"_Can somebody PLEASE get us back up there?"_ Lex snarled...And at that moment strong hands closed around the arm holding on to the jutting stone, taking some of the pressure off his shoulder. Other hands scrabbled for his legs, grabbed at his coat, pulled him back from the shaft.

"_Don't let go of him_," Mister Hua said from close behind his head. He reached over Lex's shoulder for the arm of his manager. "_You don't have to pull him up, just hold on until I can...grab him...Got him!_"

With combined effort, Lex and Shanyuang were pulled away from the gaping opening.

"Are you alright?" Chloe asked, pulling him farther away from the hole and pushing him against the wall. Lex was grateful for the support; his legs felt a bit wobbly with adrenaline. "Are you hurt? You're bleeding. What happened? Did he just slip? What happened?"

"I'm fine." Now he was safely back on his feet he became aware of a stinging in his hand, a dull throbbing pain in his lower jaw. He pulled his left glove off with his teeth, examined his fingers. Grazed knuckles, a slightly deeper gash on the side of his index finger. The last had bled a lot and soaked the inside of his glove, but it was slowing already. "It's just a scratch."

"No, your chin." She fished out a tissue out of a half-empty package, looked at his dripping finger and gave him two. He touched the paper to his chin, wincing a little.

"Thanks."

Next to them, Shanyuang gently removed his equally concerned granddaughter and colleagues from his person to glare at Fu Yang, who was standing in the middle of the path with the first aid kit from his backpack in his hands.

"_What kind of no-good guide are you?"_ the older man spat. Apart from a scraped cheek and a bad shock that made his accusing finger shake, he seemed to be more or less alright. Unfortunately for Fu Yang, his physical well-being meant that he had enough energy to express his severe disappointment with the behavior of the guide. "_Why didn't you tell me the edge was liable to collapse? And why didn't you do anything? If not for the fast reaction of this young man_," The quivering finger pointed at Lex, "_I'd have fallen down that tube! If not for him, I might have died, or at the least suffered terrible injuries_!"

Ignoring the stammered apologies of Fu Yang, he raved and ranted on, becoming more angry as his fear dissipated and his indignation grew. Lex said nothing. He pressed the tissue against his chin while Chloe deftly and with a minimum of fuss put band aids on his raw knuckles, and demurely looked at the ground whenever that wavering finger appointed him a hero.

Behind those shyly lowered eyelids dollars signs and signed contracts were floating in his vision. His closed, innocent mouth did not betray his internal grin of glee. _I'm in. It doesn't matter what happens now, I'm in. They'll do whatever I want, now. I'll get my recyclable button, AND I'll get my five-year contract. Hell, the old man couldn't have taken a tumble at a better time!_

He had ample time to control his features. It took minutes before Shanyuang had vented his displeasure and allowed Crystal to clean and patch up his bleeding cheek. Fu Yang and his first aid kit moved, crablike, into Lex's direction, already chastened and fearing more verbal flogging.

Lex did not feel inclined to be angry with him. He feigned a mild annoyance suitable to the situation, and declined emergency stitches in his chin.

"_But it is a deep cut_," Fu Yang said, full of self-recrimination. Lex sympathized. He knew from experience how liberating remorse was once you got properly started on your guilt trip. "_It must be properly cleaned, and it might scar without stitches."_

"_A bit of iodine and a swallow's tail band aid will do_," Lex assured him—even though that wasn't necessary, either. The cut would be closed by evening, and probably close to healed by tomorrow. Nevertheless, he let Chloe put a swallow's tail on his chin. It wouldn't do to be too conspicuous.

After the accident, the Sparkling Sources people were no longer in the mood to explore the surroundings. Neither was Fu Yang particularly anxious to stay close to Shanyuang and his suddenly viciously glaring granddaughter. Lex hadn't noticed before, but he now saw the resemblance between the two Shanyuangs: the shape of their eyes, the arch of their mouths was similar. The look in their eyes when they looked at him was similar as well: plain gratitude and respect. He met that look with a respectful nod of his own. Only when he mounted his pony and Chloe asked if he was alright he smiled at her, slowly and brimming with satisfaction.

"Oh yes. Yes, I'm very much alright indeed."

TBC


	5. Chapter 4

Four: Chloe makes friends Four: Chloe makes friends

On their way back down to the stables where they'd left their cars (including Chloe's rental, which she had picked up in the morning) the fluffy clouds that had first lined the horizon, all made their way over to straight above their heads, darkened in color, and released an icy drizzle on the hapless people on horseback. The invigorating breeze from before turned into a nasty wind that chilled the damp riders to the bone.

The Sparkling Sources party was more than fed up with the whole trip and made haste to descend. Ping, who would not be rushed, not even if it meant being left behind by his friend, lagged at the rear. Lex's pony danced next to it.

"Feng Lao didn't predict any rain for today, did he?" Lex asked brightly, as he wiped sleet from his nose.

Chloe didn't get it. His chin probably hurt like hell, especially in this cold, his fingers should ache, he MUST be as cold as she was, and as sore after riding this walking sack of hay all afternoon, but for some reason he was in excellent spirits.

"No," she said sourly. Her bangs stuck to her face and she couldn't feel her toes anymore. "He didn't."

"Still want to take him to Metropolis and employ him with Channel 4?"

Perhaps it was the shock. Adrenalin made people giddy, didn't it? Maybe this was the release of his fear.

It didn't look like a release; it looked as if he simply was in a very good mood for reasons she couldn't fathom. She realized she found inexplicable good moods highly annoying.

"Guess not," she grunted.

Lex smiled. "Come on," he said, softer, because while he saw no wrong in irritating her with his good mood, he for some reason didn't want the Chinese to know, "I know you're cold and miserable right now, but we'll reach the stables in about a quarter of an hour, and we'll have a nice hot bath at the hotel. And then I'll take you out for dinner, or maybe we can just order room service. I'll feed you."

She thawed a little at the mere thought of it. "Oh, room service! And I want to eat in bed!" She considered. "Will you use chopsticks to feed me?"

"If you want."

"How are you going to feed me soup?"

"Mmm…tricky." He pursed his mouth. A thin stream of water that had until now run past his nose took a new path and dripped from his upper lip. He wiped it off with his torn glove. "I might have to take it in my mouth and pass it on—I mean, I could simply pour it onto your face, but that isn't very romantic…then again, noodle soup might not work very well that way…"

She snorted. Ping snorted too. "You're a real Romeo, aren't you?"

"What did Romeo do that was so romantic, anyway?" Lex mused. "So he climbed a couple of vines to get to the girl's balcony. That's lust-inspired acrophobia control, not romance."

"He died for her?"

"Because he didn't check her pulse! The man was as stupid as a hog's back end."

"He thought she was dead!" Chloe argued. "She was in a coffin, for Chrissakes. Everybody thought she was dead! That was the whole point!"

"So why didn't he know? I mean, if it was so carefully planned, why wasn't HE informed?"

"Because…" Chloe desperately tried to remember how the story went. "Because the priest, or…I don't know who he was, didn't get the message to Romeo in time."

"And why was that?" Lex said with gleeful sarcasm. "Did he forget to post it?"

"Hell if I know! Maybe his messenger pigeon died because of avian flu, how should I know? We did 'Romeo and Juliet' in high school, I can't remember the details."

Lex snorted. Again, Ping echoed the sound. "Avian flu?"

"Well, it could be."

"Actually, it sounds pretty plausible. It would explain why those idiots act the way they do. Avian flu…maybe BSE, too."

"You know you are talking about one of the greatest tragedies every written in the history of man?"

"Huh," said Lex, and blew water from his lips—that, despite his good cheer, were beginning to turn blue with cold—"If that is a tragedy, what was 9-11?"

"Not Shakespeare," Chloe said, and she was almost glad when the cars came into view. Lex was in a weird mood. She didn't know what to do with him if he was like this. "Shall I drive?"

"Sure," he said.

At the stables, they unsaddled the ponies and left them in the care of Miss Zhen and a few stable hands that had apparently been playing a Wii in a side room. The Chinese said a few kind words to Miss Zhen and bowed stiffly to Fu Yang. They said an equally quick goodbye to Lex and Chloe, trouped into their cars and were gone before the first pony was rubbed dry. Mister Shanyuang had been shivering severely. Chloe couldn't blame them for their expeditious retreat.

She, herself, hung around for a while to thank Miss Zhen and poor Fu Yang. Most of the day had been wonderful, after all, and she hardly thought it fair to blame the old man's loss of footing on the guides. Lex as well, was generous in his appreciation.

"Are you going to tell me why the manager's misfortune makes you so happy?" she asked, as they walked towards the rental. She unlocked it with the remote control key.

"Sure," said Lex. He thoughtlessly walked around the car to the driver's seat. "Me saving his ass is going to give me a whole lot of business leniency, and that means I'll get what I want. Or maybe that I won't have to work as hard as I was afraid I'd have to to get it."

"How…opportunistic."

"I prefer to call that business acumen," Lex said. He opened his door. "Do you know what we've been discussing this morning, from nine to twelve?"

Chloe pointedly looked from her door to the keys in her hand. He did not notice. "No?"

He sat down. "Neither do I. We've been talking non-stop for three hours and I can't for the world remember what it was about. Now, I may be able to influence our meetings a little, stop their endless objections and do things my way. What is it?" he asked, as Chloe sighed, smiling, as she dropped into the passenger seat.

She held up the key and jingled it in front of his face. Lex stared first at his right hand, resting lightly on the wheel, then at his empty left hand, and then at the empty ignition. "I'm sorry," he drawled, shaking his head. "I wasn't trying to undermine your feminist authority. I was just preoccupied. Do you want to switch places?"

"Then I'd have to go back into the rain again. No, you drive. I'll find a fitting way to punish you for your sexist behavior."

"I wasn't…" Lex began, then thought better of it and snatched the keys out of her hand. "Yes, Chloe," he said obediently, started the car and drove back to the hotel.

It was already becoming dark when they arrived at the hotel. The car had been warm, but two minutes in the cold evening air and later in the cool hall was enough to make Chloe start shivering again.

"Bad weather?" Feng Lao asked rhetorically, taking in their bedraggled forms as they stood dripping in front of the elevator.

Chloe only nodded. So far she had managed to keep her teeth firmly pressed together, but the moment she'd open her mouth they would start to chatter.

"Just a bit of rain," Lex said in her stead. He had taken off his cap and gloves, and in the bright hall light the band aids and bruises on his chin looked very dramatic.

Feng Lao regarded him with his sad, expressionless face. "You have an accident?" he asked, gesturing at his chin.

"Yes," Lex said cheerfully.

"Do you need doctor?"

"Nope." The elevator doors slid open with a futuristic hum. "How do I order room service?"

"Just press 1 on your phone," said Feng Lao. "Only kitchen staff don't speak English."

"That's ok. I do."

"Ah," the other man said, and then the doors closed and they went up to their floor.

Inside, it was comfortably warm. The radiators were blazing, and the curtains closed. Lex's room even had a gas hearth, but he sneered at it and said it was kitsch in the worst possible form, and refused to light it. He turned on the dimmers instead.

Chloe's possessions had been moved back to her own room, as they were every morning when the room was cleaned. Usually, she just picked up her beauty case and clothes and dumped them in Lex's room; this time, she went straight to her bathroom and peered inside. Since she always got up later than Lex she'd only used this bathroom to brush her teeth in the evening; for the rest of the time she used Lex's. She hadn't sized up the bath before.

She did have a bath, but it was definitely one-person only.

Leaving her coat over the radiator, she went back to Lex's bathroom and took at the bath there. It was the same size. She sighed. "We will never fit in this bath together."

Lex stuck his head inside and regarded the bath. He nodded. "Not if we want any of our limbs underwater, no. Then again, bathing together is highly overrated as long as it isn't in a six by six Jacuzzi."

"But I do want a bath…" she whined.

"So have one," Lex said. He hung up his coat. "You can take one in your bathroom and I can take one in mine."

"Is this what we've come to? Bathing Apart, Together?"

"I could take a shower instead and then come and sit on the edge of your bath?"

She perked up. "Would you?"

"You'd actually _want_ me to do that?" He was as much amused as surprised.

"Yes, of course!" She was already yanking off her boots. Lex considerately turned on the tap for her. "I see so little of you these days…you're always out and having meetings, leaving me all by myself…" She pushed out her lower lip in mock-sadness.

Lex laughed. "Oh, you poor, neglected, uncared for little thing! Well, alright then. Am I allowed to warm myself up or should I sit here next to you while you float in your bath like a duck egg in hotpot?"

Chloe considered the rise of the water. Stream rose from the surface; she could feel the heat from two yards away. She added the contents of a tiny white bottle with bath foam, the kind Lex thoughtlessly removed from the bathroom and put in his suitcase, and which was replaced every time the room was cleaned. "You can take a quick shower, I think."

Lex bowed cynically. "Duō xiè, xiǎo jie."

"What's that?"

"My heartfelt gratitude for your ladyship's cordiality."

"Huh," said Chloe. She tossed clothes in every direction and dipped a toe in the water. It was far too hot to enter yet. "I let you drive, didn't I?" She shivered. Lex handed her a robe, one of those white teddy hotel robes. She was quite sure he'd pack it when they left, too. "I could be much less forgiving."

"True. Well, I'll go and shower, then."

"Do you need to have your band aids changed after showering? Because if you do, I can wait until you're done." She gestured at the steaming bath. Added a little cold water. "This won't be accessible until it's cooled down a little, anyway."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Nah, I'll be fine. It's probably stopped bleeding by now, and if it hasn't, I can bandage myself. Just add more cold water." He disappeared into her room, leaving the adjourning door wide open, and a few seconds later she heard the shower in her bathroom start up. With a sigh, she opened the cold water tap wide for a few moments, then decided she'd waited long enough and slid in, gasping at the heat.

It was perhaps ten minutes later when she sensed movement beside her. She opened one eye to see Lex carefully close the door and sit down on the edge of the bath, with his back against the wall opposite of her. The bath was placed in some sort of niche, with walls at both ends. Lex had put on a shirt and boxers, but nothing else. He pulled one leg up to his chest, foot propped up on the edge, and dangled the other one in the water.

He hissed. "Christ, god, what temperature is this? Aren't you being boiled alive?"

"Scalding Fahrenheit," Chloe said, ducking a little deeper into the water. While her hair had been wet with rain before, it was now damp with sweat. Drops of perspiration stood on her nose and cheeks. "It's heavenly."

"I am SO glad I didn't fit into this bath with you. I mean, really, this is hazardous."

"I like it this hot." She opened her other eye as well. He had put another elastoplast on his chin but his fingers were bare. His knuckles were still red and raw, but they didn't seem to bother him much. "Does your face hurt?" Because he was flushed red from the shower she couldn't see the bruising anymore.

He shook his head. "Not really. It's a bit sore, that's all." He grinned. "I am now in proud possession of a cleft chin. Dad would be DELIGHTED. My mother's father had a cleft chin," he explained.

"You dad didn't get on with your mother's father?"

"My dad doesn't get on with anybody." He shrugged, dismissing the subject, pulled his now red foot out of the water and drew closer to her upper body, sliding over the edge of the bath as if it were a monorail. He dipped his right hand into the water, lightly trailed it over her shoulder, chest, breast, down to her stomach. "I could whisk you out of this bath, exploit your subservience and have you back in before it even stops steaming," he murmured.

She stared up at him with half-lidded eyes. "I have no doubt that you could." She squirmed as his fingers reached the crease of her thigh. It felt strange, being caressed while submerged in neigh blistering water. Strange, but not unpleasant. She spread her legs a bit further—hardly a dignified pose but what the hell—and he slipped two fingers inside. "You know that won't work underwater."

"No?" Lex asked. He watched the slow move of his hand under the surface. "Why not?"

"Not enough…" This was not supposed to work. "slick."

"That figures," Lex murmured, smiling a little. "It's immediately washed away." He made slow circles with his index finger, and while it should not work at all it was working pretty damn well. "So…this does nothing for you?"

The smug bastard had probably done this a hundred times with various bath-bound women.

"I didn't say that…"

"Oh, good! I wouldn't want to waste my time doing something you're not at all enjoying."

"I think sex…I mean real sex in a bath…wouldn't work." She stroked her hands over the smooth, hot surface of the bath. Everything had heated up to the comfortable temperature of 103 degrees.

"No," Lex agreed. He huffed in surprise as she put one of those wet, overheated hands on his crotch and squeezed—he almost lost his balance and toppled sideways into the water.

"The logical solution," Chloe said, tracing his erection under the wet fabric while he struggled to keep upright, "is to take the sex out of the bath and into the bed."

"You nasty girl. You've made me all wet."

"Return the favor, then," Chloe challenged. Lex muttered something about wasted labor, but he picked up a towel and pulled her out of the bath.

"I could now dramatically sweep you off your feet," he said while he dried her off with almost business-like efficiency (Lex, she'd found out, was always efficient when sex was concerned), "and carry you to the bed—like Romeo probably did with Juliet after he'd removed all the spiders and loose twigs and other disgusting things he'd picked up while climbing the ivy—but then I'd probably slip and break both your back and mine. So…" He smacked her towel-clad bottom, making her cry out with indignation.

For one wrathful second she thought about pulling a Ping and rooting to the ground, but that wouldn't get her what she wanted, so she took a step forward. Within ten seconds he had frog-marched her to the bed, ripped the towel away and exposed her to air that was significantly cooler than the air in the bathroom.

"I so adore the female body," Lex said, taking in her stiffening nipples with a pleased smile. Then he pushed her down and continued what he'd been doing in the bath.

It was slow and sweet, as if he were still moving through water, and when he entered her it was slow and sweet as well.

But her bathwater was cooling, and while this was really nice, they were now doing it the way HE wanted, while she'd resolved to have him snap to her command for both his remarks on the mountain, and his masculine superiority complex that wouldn't allow him to let her drive. She slapped down her hands on his buttocks.

"Dā, qū xiāo!"

"W-what?"

She opened her eyes and found Lex's face inches above her own. He almost looked startled. "Dā, qū xiāo?" she repeated faintly. Lex's mouth was wobbling. "It…doesn't it mean go faster?"

He tried to keep a straight face. He really made an effort…but he failed, and failed miserably. He collapsed on top of her, shaking with silent laughter, which became less silent as he gave in to it. "Qū xiāo!" he whooped after a while, and dissolved in uncontrolled laughter.

Chloe sighed. She gave him a little push, and he rolled off of her, literally limp with mirth now. And even though she was miffed because he was laughing at her, she couldn't suppress a smile of her own, because his hilarity was rather infectious, and there was something disarming about a naked Luthor rendered helpless—_call that incapacitated_, she corrected herself dryly—by a fit of convulsive giggles. _He must really be mentally exhausted by those useless meetings if he allows himself to lose control like this, _she thought, observing his futile efforts to pull himself together. _Or maybe he and the Sparkling Sources people like to smoke a bit of opium in between meetings._

Lex wiped his eyes, still chuckling a little. He bit his lip. "Sorry. I'm not…I'm not laughing at you. It's just…" he grinned hugely.

"Ok," Chloe sighed. "What did I say to you?"

"G-…" He stopped, pressed his lips together for a few seconds. "You said…'Giddy up horsy'."

"Giddy up horsy," she repeated, aghast. _I must kill and eviscerate Crystal when I next see her. And Wong. Wong, too._

He began to laugh again. "If you want to be on top, all you have to do is say so."

"I didn't…! I meant…"

"Do you want me to buy you a cowboy hat?"

"NO!"

"I never figured you for a…" But then he couldn't say anything else, because she used one of his own techniques on him, which involved smothering any further words with her mouth, even though she really wanted to slap him. And while she was straddling him, she might as well GET on top, so she did so as well. And apart from that one instance when Lex asked her if she wanted him to whinny, thereby making her break down in guffaws at the mental picture in mid-bounce, she was quite happy with the results.

She needed to add more hot water to her bath when Lex plunked her back into it, though.

And so the evening went by. Lex disappeared to his business appointments in the morning. Chloe slept late and then spent her time switching between exploring the town or the lower hills if the weather allowed it, and composing the articles Perry had demanded she write in return for her leave if it was storming, snowing or both. Since the hotel didn't have an internet connection (something that nearly sent Lex into apoplectic shock), she found an internet café in town to send her pieces to the Planet.

At first, she depended on Feng Lao or Miss Zhen if she needed directions, but later on other people stepped forward to entertain her. The thing about tourism in secluded little villages in China, was that the tourism was only provided by the Chinese of the surrounding cities. Most of the people had only seen Westerners on TV, where their voices were dubbed by Chinese voices.

Lex produced stares, but no more than in Metropolis. After all, he was bald, and tall, and that made up for the fact that no one here knew how rich and infamous he was. However, in semi-darkness his blue eyes were colorless, and due to his uncanny ability to mimic people's behavior, it only took him three dinners in downtown restaurants before they started ignoring him.

Chloe, however, was shot bait. She simply stood out. Her blonde hair stood out, her pink face stood out. Her high, American voice stood out, and so did her open laughter. Chinese women tittered, giggled, hid smiles behind their hands. Unless they were at parties, that was.

(The day after they had seen the temple and the mine, Mayor Fengfei invited everybody for a drink in an establishment at the Square, and the four women present laughed without reserve. Crystal, when she laughed out loud, made a queer sound, like a tap that hasn't been used for a long time. Chloe enacted whole parts of her favorite comedies to make her produce that sound again and again.

Lex kept telling her she didn't need to come to this kind of gatherings if she didn't want to. She did want to attend. It was fun—more fun, she expected, than sitting round the table with these guys and wonder what was going on behind their faces.

Fu Yang, as a friend of the mayor's, had been there as well. He kept well away from Shanyuang, who shot him ugly looks from time to time, sticking close to Lex instead.

"But the man has an unlucky vibe," Lex told Chloe later, while they were lying in bed and he studied fresh cuts in his fingers. The moment Fu Yang handed Lex a glass of wine the glass more or less exploded ('I hope it isn't made of glass produced with sand from the mine', Lex had remarked dryly), leaving him standing there dripping with wine and blood. His chin only showed a thick vivid stripe and his left hand sported nothing but a few pink scars, but now his right hand was a map of red lines. Fu Yang had fussed over him, red with shame and concern, but glass made very clean, shallow cuts and they all but healed where he was standing. It was fine, he had assured the mortified man, and after almost beating him away, he managed to pull free of Fu Yang, who then made himself scarce and did not return.

Mister Shanyuang's impassive face had not as much shown as radiated dislike and, Lex told Chloe when he was done checking his hand, had agreed to a recyclable cap not yet ten minutes later.

And when Chloe had remarked sarcastically that it was nice he had some blood available to sign Lex's contract, Lex had pretended he didn't get what she was saying.)

So, unless she was at a party with drunk women, Chloe stood out. At first, she noticed that the locals observed her from behind their hedges, looking away or to the ground if she caught them watching. It was the same when she located an internet café and sat down behind a PC with a mug of steaming coffee. The proprietor kept his gaze firmly on the top of the counter, handing her the password to her computer without even a glance at her face. She was aware of conversations she couldn't follow and of eyes flicking into her direction, though.

The second time she visited the café—because the coffee was good and the connection slow but steady—it was a bit better. The looks were more frank now, and the proprietor met her eyes long enough to fall into her clutches. "Ni hao!" she said, grinning disarmingly. The man, a tall, thin individual in his mid-twenties, was as thrilled as any local facing a complete foreigner trying to speak the lingo.

"_Nǐ__hǎo__, __xiǎo__jie_," he said. She vaguely recalled Lex saying shiao jee as well.

"Shiao jee?" she asked.

"Young lady," the man translated with the vaguest of smiles.

"Ah, you speak English!"

"A little." He gestured at the rows of computers, most of which were occupied. "The innernet."

"I see," she said.

"You like coffee, yes?"

"Yes, please. With…"

"Whip cleam and sugar. I remember. I take your table. Here is password, station 5."

And thus her attempts at conversation were cut short, but it had been enough to show everyone present that she was willing to make an effort to speak the language.

That had been on the third day after their arrival; the day of the cocktail party during which Lex's glass exploded.

Now, on the fourth day, when she walked into the café for a quick update in between winter showers, several of the regulars (mostly kids with a World of Warcraft fetish, by the looks of it) nodded hello at her, and the proprietor, whose name she still hadn't found out, greeted her with a genuine smile.

Lex couldn't have been more pleased with his blood-bought business contract as she was with this victory.

"Ni hao!"

"Nǐ hǎo ma?"

"Pardon me?"

He repeated his sentence. It was exactly the same as 'hello', but added that 'ma' sound. She made an inquiring noise.

"'How are you?'"

"Oh! I'm fine, thanks. How do I say that in Chinese?"

"Hěn hǎo."

"Hen hao. Ni hao ma?"

"Hěn hǎo." Now he'd learned to smile, she actually thought he was very nice. "You like coffee? Here is your password. Fifteen minutes, yes?"

It was slow, but she was getting somewhere. While her computer was logging in, Chloe penned down the new phrases in her notebook. She added a few every day. But Chinese was difficult, and because she couldn't read the characters it was also hard to practice on her own.

Lex, she had found out, was a very good teacher, but unfortunately entirely unsuitable to function as one. He was incredibly good at explaining grammar rules and even more clever at making up mnemonic devices to remember difficult exceptions, but he completely failed to understand why she, or anyone, Chloe would guess, could not understand anything that he got after the first try.

Apart from his impatience when it came to teaching her, Lex also balked when she asked him to test her newly gained knowledge.

Yes, he could speak Chinese, and she was very much impressed by his ability to conduct business deals in said language, but it was taking its toll on him. Slowly but surely, the constant necessity to listen to, think in, and speak Chinese was wearing him out, and while she understood and sympathized, it didn't make learning Chinese easier for her.

"Aarggh," he had said only this afternoon when they met for lunch, throwing up his hands when she greeted him with an enthusiastic string of Chinese words for the second time in a row, "please, I've been listening to that chicken garble the entire morning. Please speak English to me."

So she spoke English to Lex, or let him unwind for half an hour. Sex worked. He was sometimes even willing to correct her pronunciation if she played it well. Usually, starting a random sentence with 'Dā, qū xiāo!' proved to be a good incentive. It never failed to make him chuckle.

"Hen hao," she whispered softly to herself. "Ni hao ma? Hen hao. Check." She plugged in her memory stick, logged onto her yahoo account and sent the article she'd typed in the hotel room earlier that morning. This one was about the temple and the story of the small statue of the Bodhisattva that had disappeared to make way for a grown up Buddha. With it were a couple of .bmp pictures she'd leeched from her camera.

When the article was gone, she checked the rest of her mail, typed Clark and Lois a message, and was just preparing to surf the Daily Planet site to keep up to date with what was going on in her home country and the rest of the world when she became aware of eager eyes staring at her from either side of her computer screen.

She tipped her head to the side, met one pair of slanted eyes, that first widened as they noticed they'd been spotted, and then sparkled mischievously as their owner grinned sheepishly.

A boy of maybe fifteen, sixteen years old, was standing at her table, backed up by two other kids, a girl and another boy.

"Hello," Chloe said.

"Hi," said the boy. His voice sounded like the croak of a very big frog. One of those unfortunates whose voice was still breaking, Chloe gathered. Or maybe that just took longer for Asian people; she recalled listening to older youths with a similar froggy voice. The boy said something else. She didn't understand a thing of it, but just before she told him she couldn't speak Chinese, she realized that he hadn't been speaking Chinese either.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"You're Ameuikan, wight?"

It took her a few seconds to chew through both his horrible accent and his weird voice, but then she concluded that yes, he was definitely trying to communicate in English. How sweet. They want to practice their language skills.

"Yes," she said. "I'm an American. My name is Chloe Sullivan."

The other boy gave frog-voice a couple of enthusiastic punches. Despite the cold, Frog-voice was wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves torn off; on his skinny upper arm a black dragon coiled towards his elbow. He grinned and pushed him away. "My name," he said, slowly, so he could pronounce every letter carefully, "Is Lung. I would...would you mind talking to me and my friends?" He couldn't pronounce either the r or the l, turning both into some kind of round u-sound or skipping them altogether, and he more often than not forgot about dentals and plosives at the end of a word, but once she'd got past that, she could actually follow him quite well.

She gave him a smile. "Of course I wouldn't mind. Please, sit down." She gestured at her table, and the three of them slid into the booth across. Chloe turned off her screen and pushed it as far to the side as it would go. "So, you're Lung. And you?"

The girl, a wisp of a thing in full teenage rebel mode with a shock of dark blue-dyed hair and at least five piercing in each ear, covered most of her face with her hands and, rendered all but inaudible by that action, muttered something that Chloe later identified as Ai-li. The boy, a pimply individual also with a mass of piercings, introduced himself as Ta. As soon as they had said their names they expectantly turned towards Lung again. Apparently he was either their leader or the only one who could actually speak English.

Lung smiled at Chloe. He seemed to be content to have made contact, and was now waiting for her to begin the conversation.

Chloe cleared her throat. "So," she started. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Ameuica. Where you come from?"

"I'm from Metropolis. It's in Kansas. Do you know Kansas?"

Three nods, which she knew were deceitful. Why on earth should they know anything about Kansas?

"Is it a big city?" asked Ta, when Lung kept smiling without asking anything else.

"Yes. It's about twenty times bigger than Shueng. But originally...Um...I grew up in a small town, much like this one."

"I would like to visit Ameuica once," Lung croaked. The other two nodded solemnly. Chloe asked them why, and what they'd like to see. After a while the awkwardness diminished, and while they talked Chloe got more used to their accent, and they to hers. She steered the conversation to what young people did in their spare time, and then to their rebellious look: the tattoo, the piercings.

"If you have a famous name, or you belong to a gang," Lung said, caressing his upper arm, "you get a...a sign. On your body. Everyone has one."

"You have a dragon," Chloe said.

"Yes. Because my name is Lung." She blinked. "Lung means dragon."

"I see." She licked her lip. The coffee was finished. "Have you ever heard of Phoenix Fire?"

Confused glances. "Phoenix...fire?"

"Umm..." she tried to remember the Chinese term. "I think Lex called it Feng hang ha...ho? Feng hang something."

"_Fèng__huáng__huǒ_." said Ta. "Yes."

"It's a drug, right?"

"Yes. Drug. It's bad." To her surprise, he turned his head and spat on the floor. "They make it of flower. My brother use it. He had a heart attack."

"He DIED?" Chloe asked, shocked. _My god, what happened to that girl? What has happened to her? _

"No," Ta said. "Just attack. But he was damage, and very sick. And he still want it. My mother lock him up in the basement."

"_What_?"

"In the basement," Ta repeated. "So he couldn't get out. To get more _Fèng__huáng__huǒ_."

"Would it have been easy for him to purchase some, then?"

"Sorry?"

She firmly pushed and journalistic language back down into her creative drive. "Is it easy to get?"

Ai-li snorted delicately. "Only if you belong to Phoenix gang. Or if they want you belong them."

More phoenix. _The phoenix features as much in this little town as the flower_, Chloe thought. A thrill of excitement passed along her back. She voiced her thoughts, and the three nodded as one. They were incredibly well attuned to one another.

"Yes," said Lung—the Chinese' favorite word. "Phoenix. Name of our...our..." He consulted his friends. "Mayor. Good luck bird. Stand for renewal and power."

"Although Mayor not so lucky either," Ta mused. "With accident and all."

"Accident?" Chloe asked, perking up her ears.

They all nodded again. "Yes," said Lung. "He has accident. Two month ago. With car, in mountains." He drew his hand across his cheek. "Face all broken, wife dead. Great tragedy," he added impassively.

Chloe was shocked. So that's why he had that weird scar. The poor man! Although she never would have guessed he'd lost his wife. God, these people were unreadable with their mask-like faces and iron self-control. "I had no idea. How terrible."

"Yes," Lung repeated. "Great tragedy." He blinked, and his compassion for the tragedy was gone. "Wife go phoenix in car."

_My god, this boy HAS to become a comedian!_ She bit her lip to keep from bursting out in shocked laughter.

"Phoenix Fire bad name for drug," Ai-li said, pulling up her nose and completely ignoring the morbid humor of her friend. "That not bring power, only destluction." She fiddled with the rings in her left ear. "But there is little else, and once you start, you..." She shrugged.

"Are hooked?"

"Hooker?" Her brow furrowed with confusion.

Chloe laughed. "No, not hooker, hooked. As in, Addicted."

"Oh. Yes."

"So, if people get addicted, they become part of the Phoenix gang?"

"Yes. Or gang first, then drugs."

She turned to Ta. "Your brother was a member of the Phoenix gang?"

He nodded. "Yes. Till he got heart attack. Then my mother lock him into basement." There was a certain grim satisfaction in the boy's face. Unlike Lex's business partners, these kids made no effort to conceal their emotions.

"Did he have a tattoo, too?"

For some reason, that made them all laugh like maniacs. "Tattoo, too, tattoo too!" Ta pulled up his sleeve. He had a tattoo as well. It looked a little like an obese lion. "Everyone has tattoo. But yes, brother have tattoo, too." He giggled.

"But you don't have a phoenix. Did he have a phoenix?"

"Yes. And he have real tattoo."

Chloe arched her eyebrows. "You have a tattoo?"

"This is henna."

Lung nodded sagely. Apparently his dragon was henna-based too. The girl, Ai-li, looked smug.

"Do you have a henna tattoo as well?" Chloe asked, because she looked like she would really like Chloe to ask.

"No," the girl said, smiling. "I have real tattoo."

Chloe's eyes widened. "A Phoenix?"

"No. No phoenix. _Lan_."

"Lan?" Chloe asked, puzzled.

"Her family crest is _Lan_," Ta said proudly. He nudged the girl and said something in Chinese that Chloe didn't need to have translated to know that it meant, 'Go on, show!' After a bit of calculated fretting, she turned around on her seat and pulled up her layer of shirts.

"Oh, wow," Chloe said. She reached for her camera. "Can I please take a picture of that?"

On the girl's beautiful white back a purple orchid spread its flower across her shoulder blades. It was a big tattoo, and beautifully made, unlike Lung's somewhat clumsy dragon and Ta's downright pathetic lion, but… _Such a huge thing on that small back, and on such a young body. What a strange custom._

"Ok," Ai-li said. "But no publish!"

"Of course not! This is just for me. To remember, you know." She took a close-up of the orchid and, when Ai-li was clothed properly again, took another one of the three sitting next to one another. They all held up their hands in the victory sign.

She was honestly sorry she had to go when the clock struck (or rather soundlessly pointed) five. She had promised to meet up with Lex for some much-needed outdoor activity. But Ta, Ai-li and Lung wrote down their names and email addresses in her little note book, and promised they'd be at the internet café at the same time tomorrow.

"If you can' come, you write mail to me for time and place," Lung instructed. "We take you to nice place for drink or dance, or food, whatever you like. You have boyfriend, yes? Tall, pale, no hair man? You bring him too!"

"Alright!" Chloe said. She shook hands with all three of them and left at a run, feeling very pleased with herself.

TBC

Um…the thing I said about this fic being about 100 pages? Not true. It's gonna be just a little bit longer…Say, about twice the number, I guess :)


	6. Chapter 5

Hello

Hello!

Sorry for the late update. I wanted to combine this chapter with the next one, but it isn't finished yet and I'm not sure it will be before I leave for holiday.

Ok. So, a few more moments of peace and love before things go boom :)

Five: Midnight meetings and sleeping spells

"Hi!" Chloe greeted Lex.

"Hey," he said back. "How was your day?"

She was flushed from running and cold, and tasted vaguely of salt and coffee when he kissed her. After the latest marathon session of discussing technical and law-restrictive problems, which he didn't think were problems at all, seeing her was almost as good as imagining taking a gun and put it against Wong's head. If it wasn't Shanyuang bringing up protests, it was Wong. And if it wasn't Wong, it was Madonna. He was so sick and tired of Asians and their exhaustingly polite 'nos' disguised as 'yeses'…Thankfully he could completely avoid them for the next two days. Well, the Sparkling Sources Asians, that was. Unless he locked himself up in his room, he'd probably have to face other slanted-eyed, yes-saying, no-meaning, clay-faced little people. _That's an idea. Hide Chloe's clothes and lock the door. Yes, I could definitely spend the weekend that way…_

"…and then we talked about cutting off the hind legs of frogs," Chloe said earnestly. She'd been talking for a while, the sound soothingly English to his overwrought ear drums. "It was such fun."

"Really? That's nice." If he'd known the number of objections he'd find in his path, he would have waited another month or two before actually agreeing to meet these people. Sure, rescuing the manager had helped. But it hadn't solved the problem of underground wiring for electricity, and it hadn't miraculously changed some crazy Chinese law against laying cement housings for cables…

Wait.

"What did you just say?" he asked, dragging his mind out the grasp of today's aggravating business.

Chloe grinned. "I said I met a gang of suicidal warrior monks who specialized in the ritual dismembering of frogs."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"

"No. But I was curious whether you'd pick up on it. You looked very much caught up in your own thoughts."

He rubbed his forehead, trying to rub out the visual of ten arguing Chinese men and women as well. "I was. Sorry, long day. Do you know that there is a law that…No. No, I'm not going to talk about that stupid law anymore. I'm out of my thoughts. What DID you do, today?"

"I made new friends," she said happily, and actually skipped two steps before falling back into pace next to him.

He smiled. "Warrior monks?"

"Not exactly. Teenagers."

"Might be equally dangerous," Lex murmured, remembering Smallville. She thumped his arm. He was becoming calloused on that spot, he suspected. He didn't even bruise anymore.

"They weren't dangerous! They were lovely. And they told me a lot of very interesting things.

'Such as the fact that Phoenix Fire is distributed by a gang that calls itself the, surprise, surprise, Phoenix gang, and that that gang selects its members and then provides those members with drugs that damage the heart."

_Only Chloe will introduce herself to the local youth with the question if they know anything about a drug she's heard about, _Lex thought, amused; then clacked his tongue and exclaimed "Like that girl!" just as Chloe added, "Do you remember that girl?" It was only now that he realized she was in full reporter mode. That was the reason she was so bouncy; she was on some sort of track, or so she thought. _And she might be right, _he supposed. "It doesn't sound like a good idea to get your gang members addicted to a drug that causes heart failure," he mused aloud.

"I want to know if that girl is still alive," Chloe said.

Lex nodded, slowly. "Me, too. But I wouldn't know how. I didn't get her name. I mean, I could call the hospital and ask what happened to the girl that was brought in with chest pains two days ago, but I doubt they'd give me a straight answer."

"Maybe Lung and Co. could find out."

"Lung?" Lex asked, and was treated to a story of rebellious teenagers with henna tattoos on their arms and one real tattoo on the back. Chloe also told him about Mayor Fengfei's car crash not two months ago, and that made him frown. "Wong didn't tell me anything about that."

"Maybe he didn't think it important," Chloe shrugged. "What intrigues _me_, is that the Phoenix keeps coming back all the time. Phoenix Fire, Phoenix gang, Fengfei's connected to the phoenix too…"

"His name means phoenix," said Lex. "It's quite a common name. And the bird rising from the flames of its own destruction is generally considered positive symbolism."

"So what are you saying?" Chloe asked, doing another little hop. "That it's all coincidence?"

Lex smirked. "I don't believe in coincidence."

"Oh right, I forgot it was YOU I was talking to," she retorted, but he sensed that she didn't mean it as an insult. Like his, Chloe's world was populated with people who thought the world hung together from coincidences. She was probably overjoyed to have found someone who took as many wild leaps on reason as she did. And that was good, because his brain was elated to have something else to do than translate Chinese refusals that sounded like agreements.

"I'm just trying to make things add up, and so far they don't. Firstly, that girl you stumbled over? She was…maybe fourteen, fifteen years old? That is a little young to be part of a drug-dealing gang, isn't it?"

"The Metropolis gangs recruit teenagers, too," Chloe argued. "And even in Smallville we had juvenile junkies. Kids want to fit in, and they want to look tough. The badder the gang, the younger the kids."

"That's true. But that couple that called the police wasn't at all alarmed by having her found on their doorstep, nor by the term Phoenix fire. They knew of it, but it didn't really scare them. And gangs, as far as I know, are not only about drugs. They do more."

"Theft, extortion, black market activity, a syndicate maybe," Chloe agreed, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, I associate gangs and doped-up kids with crime, too. You're right, they weren't shocked at all. Worried about the girl, but nothing more. You'd expect some level of fear at least. Come to think of it, Ta didn't mention anything about the Phoenix gang doing illegal things either. It's as if they purely exist to distribute their nasty stuff—and even that they do with more care than you'd expect, since they actively select their users."

_Source language is similar to target language. Continue or abort? _Lex squeezed the bridge of his nose, urging his brain to stop trying to convert Chloe's words from Chinese into English. "Ok," he said. "Maybe they're only selling. And maybe you have to meet certain conditions in order to be found worthy to use their drug. Still, as a gang, you want to keep your members happy, right? Giving them substances that cause heart attacks doesn't sound like much of a bonus to me."

"Mmmm," Chloe murmured, sounding neither affirmative nor negative. They had thoughtlessly wandered into the square, where a lone woman was just finishing scrubbing the First Buddha's foot with algae removal solution. The chemical spraying from the nozzle of her cleaning machine smelled of artificial lemons and made Lex's nose prickle. He sneezed, and a moment later Chloe sneezed as well. _Now I see how they keep their beloved statue so sparkly clean. If I am correct America took this chemical off the market 70 years ago. It's a good thing they don't use this stuff on the Buddha in the mountains, or all water filtering through the ground here'd be contaminated. That'd be a laugh. They wouldn't need heart-damaging drugs anymore; everybody'd be permanently damaged since birth by the water._

_I wonder if it is harmful when transmitted through air. That woman is wearing a mask over her nose and mouth._

"Let's eat," Lex proposed, sneezing again and backing away from the woman and her nozzle. She smiled apologetically. "Somewhere warm, cozy, and preferably free of this lemony…" he sneezed again, "gunk."

"Gotcha there," Chloe said, and they beat a hasty retreat to one of the nearest little restaurants.

*

Chloe didn't hold her chopsticks quite right, but she could use them pretty well by now. She could even talk about Phoenix Fire while holding a piece of Tahoe suspended in the air and keeping it there while she gestured with her chops. Lex followed the piece with his eyes while she talked.

He didn't want to tell her, but he really didn't care all that much about the drug. Had the so-called Phoenix gangsters followed him and the Sparkling Sources people around with 'Foreigners Out!' banners and explosives it would have been something else, but so far the entire village seemed eager to welcome the outsiders into their world and build the water installation. Unless they were stupid or lazy, the gang seemed to share this sentiment.

He could guess why, too. If more people came to work in the village, the populace would grow, and the more people, the more consumers. He had seen it more often, and while he was no supporter of criminals, he had never bothered rooting them out before concluding a business deal in a place run over by that mob in question. Everybody had to make a living, right? Criminals as well as honest business people. Only the ignorant and hopeless would fall into their hands; who was Lex Luthor to stand in the way of Darwin's natural selection?

The only thing that kept nagging at the back of his mind, was that the gang was so selective choosing their users. That didn't make sense at all. And so he listened to Chloe's theories and posed some of his own, intrigued despite himself. Yet neither of them could come up with an explanation, and by the time Lex fished the last lychee out of his dessert bowl, they were both tired of the subject.

He was tired, period. He didn't mind working hard to achieve his goals, but he did mind spending ages cajoling, begging and prodding people to do what was so obviously the most logical, profitable thing to do. And then finding out that the reason they had brought up all those ridiculous objections was some local law that…

He sighed. _I really need a break. Here I am sitting at a table with my delightful young reporter, and all I can think about is that stupid law._

"Are you tired?" Chloe asked.

"Mm."

"You look tired. But you're off for the weekend, right? I mean, you ARE free, aren't you? They aren't continuing over the weekend?"

"If they would, they'd have to do it without me," Lex said with quiet vehemence. "If it were up to me, I wouldn't see a single Chinese face for the next two days."

"That might be a problem…us being in China and all."

"Huh!" huffed Lex, and she giggled.

"You're carrying an aggressive vibe, Lex. Maybe you should work out for a bit, get it out of your system."

"What I need, is these stupid cows to give me straight answers and not say 'yes', 'yes', 'yes', while they mean 'no', 'maybe', and 'I don't have a fucking clue'. But," he added, pushing his frustration back where it came from, "you're right. I think I'm going to go for a swim."

"You can't." Chloe said, picking up a drop of molten ice cream from her coupe and licking it off her finger. "Not this shortly after dinner. You'll get cramps."

"Then I'll first do something to diminish the chances I'll get cramps," he gave her a bright, promising smile that could still make her blush, "and then I'll swim, and then we can lounge around for a bit. Unless you wanted to go out?" To his immense relief, she shook her head. He was dead beat. The last thing he wanted was to hang at the bar and down bad whiskey with the yakking of bar-frequenting Shuengians in his ears. But he did ask, because it would be rather selfish to expect her to spend another evening at the hotel if she actually wanted to go out. But she didn't. Thank god. "Tomorrow," he said, perking up, "I want to get two ponies and go up to the ruins of the first temple."

"Do you think you can get the ponies without the guide?" She correctly assumed he didn't want anyone else accompanying them.

"I will if I pay enough," he shrugged. He knew from experience that almost any and all objections could be taken away by currency. "Besides, Miss Zhen knows I ride well, and if you take Ping I doubt anything could happen if you wanted to. We can picnic up there in the mountains."

"Provided it doesn't snow."

"Provided it doesn't snow."

"Sounds great. Although, if we have some time left in the afternoon, I'd like to hit the internet café and maybe meet up with Lung and his friends."

"Sure," said Lex. "I want to check my email, anyway. I can't believe the hotel doesn't have a proper connection!"

"I can't believe the internet café _does_!" Chloe said. "We're in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by mountains and valleys. Really, I'm BAFFLED by the fact that I can still access my account."

"Ze internet rulez ze world," Lex lisped, and she laughed.

"I thought money ruled the world."

"It does. But it is actually the puppet of the internet."

"Its puppet, eh?"

"Whipping boy, in fact," said Lex, and stuck up his hand to get the check.

*

At 2 PM Chloe was woken by a soft sound. For a few sleep drunk moments she wondered if it was some kind of amorous whisper, but no, the only part of Lex's body touching hers was his knee. _A midnight phone call, then?_ she wondered without opening her eyes. No, the murmur was not regular enough to be a conscious, one-sided conversation.

She sighed, opened her eyes and rolled over to watch the source of the muttering sound, and found Lex lying belly-down, talking again.

He had started talking in Chinese in his sleep the night before. As a matter of fact Chloe suspected he was conducting entire meetings while he was dreaming. The first time his mutterings woke her up, she thought he was having a nightmare, but when he interjected, "No, I don't agree with that, and could you please let me finish my argument?" she had laughed and listened for a while, hoping he'd fall into a deeper sleep soon. Yesterday, he had after a couple of minutes, but this time, he didn't.

He'd fall silent for a few minutes, and then suddenly start talking again, his hands twitching into fists in the sheets. All in Chinese.

_Looks like those patented high-quality Luthor brains finally got overloaded, _she thought with a snicker.

But it was kind of annoying, listening to someone talk in his sleep, especially since she didn't understand a word of it, and after twenty minutes of slurred fragmented monologue, she woke him up, or at least got him to open his eyes. "Lex. Wake up. You're not in a meeting."

"Mmm?"

"You were talking in your sleep. You're not in a meeting. You're in bed with me, and it's weekend. You're supposed to take a break from speaking Chinese."

"Oh. Sorry." He said something else in Chinese. It sounded like 'would you shut up!' She was not coming through, that was for sure.

She put her hand on his chest, winced and moved it to his shoulder as he tensed. One day she was going to find out why he reacted that way. "Ok, listen to me. Are you listening?"

"Absolutely."

She giggled. "You're such an obedient boy, Lex."

"Don't patronize me." It came out so coolly she cast a searching glance at his face…but no, still on auto-pilot; he'd even closed his eyes again.

"Ok, sorry. I won't patronize you. The meeting's finished. You can go to sleep now. You've concluded your speech and they've all listened to you, and now you can stop speaking Chinese."

"But then they won't understand me," Lex murmured.

"They don't need to, honey; meeting's over."

Lex's eyes opened at a slit. "Honey?" he repeated, and while his voice was still heavy with sleep, it at least sounded as if he actually knew what he was saying.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "What are you, a bee? I'm having entire conversations with you and the only word you react to is 'honey'?"

"Sorry." He rubbed his face. "What were we talking about?"

"About the fact that you should stop talking."

"Was I talking?"

"Yes. In Chinese. I think you were trying to persuade the Sparkling Sources people to let you finish your argument."

"They're in the habit of interrupting me," he muttered. "Especially that friend of yours."

"Crystal?"

"Wong. Keeps on talking and talking and talking…" He heaved a deep sigh, pushed his face against her shoulder and fell asleep again.

"Ah," said Chloe, who was now very much awake. "That is unfortunate indeed." She stroked an inquiring hand over the smooth dome of his skull, but he didn't even stir. _No_, she corrected herself, _there's nothing 'again' about this. The word 'again' in this context would imply that he woke up at one time. He continues sleeping. I doubt he'll even remember this conversation in the morning._

She sighed again. "Well, as long as you keep silent, Mister Luthor. Or maybe I should call you Ruthor. To keep you in the right state of mind."

"Bzzzzzz," Lex buzzed.

"You ARE awake! You bastard!"

He caught her hand before she could thwack him on the arm. "Go to sleep, Chloe."

"You woke me up with your Chinese babbling."

"I'll babble in English."

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped babbling at all."

"Consider it done," said Lex sleepily, and when she next spoke to him, he didn't give any reply anymore.

*

The next morning Chloe physically restrained him when he tried to get up at seven.

"No, no, no," she said, hanging on to his waist while he tried to pull himself out of bed. "You kept me awake half of the night with your midnight meetings. You can't possibly have slept enough to rest up properly."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Lex asked, giving up the struggle. He settled back under the covers, and was immediately partly absorbed by Chloe's sleep-warm body. Or at least that was what it felt like.

"You talked in your sleep."

"Luthors don't talk in their sleep."

"Then I suggest you check your parentage, honey, because you were as chatty as a fishmonger."

Lex blinked. The word 'honey' sounded familiar for some reason. "That is an awful comparison."

"Hence my request for you to stay in bed for a bit." She tightened the hold of her arms and legs around him.

Lex experimentally moved one leg. Her arms squeezed harder. "Request, huh?"

"A gentle petition."

"What if I need to go to the bathroom?"

"Do you?"

He considered. "Yes."

The tentacle-like limbs loosened their death grip. "You may pass. But you can't get up yet. Not yet."

Lex chuckled. But he went to do his business and then obediently returned, and to his own surprise he dozed pleasantly for another one and a half hour before his body told him that it was now definitely done sleeping, and wanted to go and do something.

They had breakfast and coffee at the hotel, simply because the restaurants in the village only served rice, egg and fried vegetables for breakfast, and Lex and Chloe agreed that rice for breakfast was unpalatable.

Then they did some shopping for their lunch up in the mountains—the weather was good, Feng Lao said, and would remain that way until the next day. "Tomorrow we get snow," he predicted, while he inserted new menu sheets into the leather folders. "Lots of snow."

"But not today," Chloe asked, just to make sure.

"No. Today is good day. Nice day for going outside."

"Good." She gave him full wattage, and Lex just KNEW what she was going to ask the guy next. "Say, Feng Lao…Have you ever heard of something called _Fèng__huáng__huǒ_?"

And the man stiffened. He controlled his features immediately, and his hands stopped folding for less than the blink of an eye, but he did go rigid for a split second before he nodded, and said, "Yes. I have."

"What do you know about it?" Chloe asked excitedly.

"Only that it's trouble."

"What about the Phoenix gang? Do you know anything about them?"

He closed the menu he was working on, put it on the stack and started with another one. "I know they exist."

"What IS the Phoenix gang, exactly?" Lex asked. He kept an eye out for the other hotel staff, but the only other personnel present was the man behind the desk on the other side of the lobby.

Feng Lao didn't look up from his menus. "I don't know," he said.

"But," Chloe tried again, "what do they do, what's their place in this society? What…"

"I don't know," Feng Lao repeated, and folded another menu.

"But," Chloe said, and then she fell silent. "You don't know," she said. She shot Lex a glance, and he raised his eyebrows. _This must be the very first time I have heard a Chinese say he didn't know anything_. His paranoia spiked.

"Well, too bad," he said brightly. He took Chloe's arm. "If they aren't notorious enough to sprout tales of horrors I guess we're in no danger." He stared hard at Feng Lao, but the man's face was now so bland it had even lost its semi-permanent sad expression. _He does know. If there is anything to know, he does. And it may be a very bad idea to force him to confess._ "Let's go, Chloe. We have a long way to go."

"He knows something," Chloe said in the car. "He definitely knows something." Her eyes were shining.

"Something he doesn't want to tell," Lex said.

"Yes? So we make him spill!"

"Spill what?"

"Well, whatever he knows, of course!" She almost punched his arm, then decided it wasn't safe when he was driving. "Come on Lex! It's suspicious! He's probably part of the gang!"

"I sincerely doubt it."

"But Lex, he…"

"He is a bellboy at the biggest of the three hotels this town has. His heart is obviously in good shape. He doesn't want to talk about the Phoenix gang, and we are not in the position to make him."

"But maybe he…"

"We don't have the right. You are not a reporter here, Chloe. And this is not my city."

She was silent for a moment, looking pouty and angry and disturbingly childish—then she chuckled and said, "Your city?"

"Yes. Metropolis is my city."

"You know, it's strange, but Clark always says that as well."

Now it was Lex's turn to chuckle. "I doubt he means it in the same way as I do. Clark doubtlessly sees Metropolis as his city to save, protect and cleanse from evil influences. Me…I own Metropolis. Literally." He shot her a sideways glance. The pout was gone. He had mentioned his ownership of Metropolis before, but it had always been in a sarcastic or flippant tone of voice. He was perfectly serious now, showing a side of him she knew that was there but rarely saw, and she was fascinated.

"Go on."

"I know every businessman that counts in Metropolis—by name, face, and résumé. The same counts for all influential politicians and other crooks and criminals. Although I don't know every one of the last in person, I must confess. Even though most of them appear in public to flaunt their infamy all the time—much like me." He smiled, still completely serious. Chloe was never to know, but he did know most of the crime lords in person. Some of them he might even call colleagues.

Crime would always flourish. It was like sex: where people congregated, there would be those who would live off of them. Crime was impossible to eradicate completely, and Lex was aware of this. He had never tried to banish it; instead, he attempted to regulate it.

The thing was, it was much easier to keep an eye on what was going on in a city when crime was organized. Knowing who was behind narcotics, who behind prostitution, who dealt with gambling and who with smuggling gave one an immense advantage when trying to curb one of those activities. Lex much preferred one scary Hungarian Prostitution-Emperor with whom he had once had a comfortable chat over a glass of Talisker and Cuban cigars (which he had faked smoking), than a dozen of small-time felons he had never seen. He had never made deals with the big criminal fish of Metropolis—deals could be traced, and he wasn't stupid. But if he found small scouting fish on his turf, little guppies tasting the Metropolitan waters for new, bigger fish, Lex wasted no time pointing out said fish to the criminals he did know.

He made himself no illusions that having a drink with the Hungarian would keep said Hungarian from putting a bullet in his head if the man deemed that Lex Luthor's life was forfeit—but it might give him some leniency at least. Meeting them in person gave Lex the chance to show them how fucking intelligent he was, how influential, and how profitable it was for them to remain on his good side. And in return, knowing the CEO of LuthorCorp and LeXCorp did…not as much approve as condone…their presence, kept the criminals happy with what they had.

They had a lot. They reigned the underworld of Metropolis. But they would never have more than Lex would give them. They didn't see it that way—the Hungarian in particular thought most of his business was flying under Lex's radars. He didn't know that his right-hand man reported monthly to one of Lex's bought Homicide cops. Who, in turn, reported to yet another link in the chain. Lex held the chain; it dangled lazily from the little finger on his left hand. Very few people suspected it was him making the puppets dance. That was one of the many small pleasures he got from his Uncrowned Metropolis Empire.

"Everyone who is vaguely important in Metropolis knows me, and, I should like to say, holds me in some regard. But this is not my village, and I have no one to fall back upon if things go wrong. So," he parked in front of a small supermarket, already crawling with shopping house wives. "I would appreciate it if you didn't risk your life for something that may not be worth it."

"Good god, Lex, I'm not 'risking my life' for anything. I just want to get some answers."

"Then I suggest we find someone who's willing to give you some answers, like those kids you met, and not harass hard-working bellboys with unwanted questions." He got out of the car, blinking at the sun. It was surprisingly hot.

Chloe closed her door, leaned her hands on the roof of the car and looked at him with her head a bit to the side. "You're not forbidding me to investigate this?"

Lex shrugged. "Who am I to forbid you to do anything? I can imagine you want to find out more about the Phoenix gang and their weird drugs—that's what you do, you ferret out secrets. The only thing I am saying is: don't take risks you don't need to take. Why antagonize people if you have perfectly willing informants?"

"Why, thank you for these wise words," she said with a sneer, and Lex frowned, getting angry himself.

"I'm sorry if I come across a little patronizing, but we both know that while you are incredibly good at finding dirt, you're pretty much liable to get a shovel on your head and get buried right along with it."

"What do you mean with that?" she asked, voice dangerously low.

Lex put his hands on top of the roof as well and stared her down across the car. "What I mean is that you always get into trouble whenever you start investigating suspicious activities. And I personally am NOT looking forward to finding your dead body in the lap of that Buddha over there because you stuck your nose in some gang's business."

She opened her mouth, probably to tell him exactly what he could do with his anticipations, when she unexpectedly swallowed her words and grinned.

"Wow, Lex. I'd almost think you loved me."

"I do love you," he said, annoyed. "You know how I feel about you. Don't change the subject. You can do whatever you like, but I would really appreciate it if you didn't get shot in the process."

She was still grinning. Lex sighed. Another woman who thought he was adorable when he really wasn't trying to be. Why was it that Mayors and criminals were suitably impressed when he lectured them, and women only grinned like that? He locked the doors.

"Are you coming?"

In reply, Chloe held up something small and brown. She squeezed it, and it chirped that it loved him. "Looks like the therapy helped."

Lex facepalmed. "I wish I had another meeting today."

"No, you don't," Chloe said, and gave him a hug.

*

The ruins were a bit of a letdown. The journey up was lovely; Lex had indeed managed to persuade Miss Zhen to let them go up on their own, and the path was quite clear. Miss Zhen had given them a map, a first aid kit and two flares in case of calamities, but the practical look in her eyes while she tucked these away into Lex's saddle bags took away all excitement Chloe might have felt when facing calamities.

"Be caleful when you reach snow," was all she said when they left. "Let horses find own path. Don't drive them."

Chloe personally thought she'd need more than reins and boots to drive Ping. A whip, at least. Or maybe a taser, a cattle prod, or a gun.

But when she spoke the magical words _Dā__, __qū__xiāo_!, the pony readily followed Lex's, and they spent most of the remains of the morning riding through the mountains, with the sky endlessly blue above them, the sun shining hot on their faces, and the snow glittering like diamonds in the bright light.

The temple ruins were precisely that: ruins. There was no tantalizing, half-collapsed entrance, no mysterious faceless statues; the whole thing was rubble, and the only proof they found that the moss-overgrown pile of rocks had once been a temple were a few eroded bass-reliefs on one of the stones.

"Are you sure this is it?" Chloe asked, after she'd taken as many pictures of the picturesque, if not very interesting place as she cared to take.

Lex, who no longer looked like Metropolis' clandestine ruler with his sunburned nose and cheeks and the hat that covered his head like an egg warmer, pointed at a small plate attached to a broken pillar. "It says so over there." He studied the ruins with his hands in his pockets. "It isn't as impressive as I'd hoped."

"No." She tucked her camera away again. "The view sure is pretty, though."

"Mmmm…" His impassive eye followed the stunning display of golden mountains against flawless sky, and suddenly he grinned widely. "Not a Chinaman in sight."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Lex, really, you need to let go of things."

He turned to face her, and slowly opened his hand so the gloves he had pulled out of his pockets fell to the ground. "I know how to let go of things?"

She stuck out her tongue, and he laughed. Chloe turned her attention back to the ruins. "Where shall we eat?"

"There's a flat bit of rock over there," said Lex, pointing. "I think the Buddha must have stood there, before they moved it down to the village."

They spread out the thermal blanket they had taken along for this purpose and sat in the middle of the ruins of the ancient temple, gazing down on the valley below, and toasted to the weekend. And if the ground had been less sacred, and Chloe's hands a little warmer, they would probably have made love there as well, but in the end they just made out like a couple of teenagers.

And when they delivered the horses back at Miss Zhen's stables, three bottles of wine and six hours later, they both agreed that email was something that could be checked the following day as well.

TBC

There. Plot delivered. Now on with the action…


	7. Chapter 6

Hey Boobug! …I like groupies  Here you go! Six: Sleeping spells

"Ha," said Lex with a smile.

Chloe leaned over from her own computer. "What?"

"I got a mail from Valerie."

She waited for the old green-eyed monster to take off its sunglasses and roar a challenge to the sky—but to her own surprise the monster nestled snugly in the warm recesses of her mind and did not stir. "Really? I thought she'd gone back to Africa? Or does she have internet over there?"

Lex clicked through the message. "No, she hasn't gone back yet. I think she said she'd go in November, or something, when the Cradle Cancer Project has been closed. The project hasn't been declared finished yet, and she just mailed me that they have found a way to block the gene that renders my kids my shining bald copies."

"They found a way to make their hair grow back? That's great!"

"Yes," Lex said, eyes skimming the text. "It is. My assumptions were right. They're pretty far, too. You remember that girl Emmy? I must have mentioned her once. Her mom…well, she was quite desperate to get her hair back. She was one of the first kids who applied to get the treatment, and according to Valerie she's already grown back half an inch. No setbacks, no negative…mmm…no, it's all going pretty much perfect." He smiled, the kind of smile that was all insufferable smugness to most people because it showed a disproportionate amount of self-regarding pleasure, but that Chloe, because of her knowledge of the man's masochist mind, returned it wholeheartedly.

"That's wonderful news. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

She stirred her coffee. Clark had written her a note complaining about Lois. Lois had written her a short message asking how she was doing, and if she knew how to make Clark stop being such a country hick. Chloe had replied to both, spouting much wisdom. She had also sent her last bit of journalist effort to Perry, mailed her dad and sent a mass mail to her other friends, and now she was finished. She watched Lex's fingers dance over the keyboard as he typed his reply to Miss Decan.

"So," she said. "If those kids can get their hair back…doesn't that mean you can, too?"

Lex paused for a few seconds, then shrugged and went on typing. "I should imagine so."

"I don't sense you leaping towards that solution." She moved her head to one side and half-closed her eyes, trying to imagine him with that lovely fuzz of red. To her surprise, she found that she couldn't. _Hell, did I even take a picture of him? Well, if I didn't, I'm sure I could find one in the archives of the Planet…but still, damn! Do I? I should dig up my Nokia and check. I think I did take a few pics of him._

Lex snorted. "Picturing me with flowing ginger locks?"

"You were much redder than ginger. Why aren't your eyebrows red, anyway?"

"I don't know. They used to be auburn, or fawn…they were reddish," he corrected himself with a sneer, "when I was younger, I mean even after I lost the rest of my hair. Maybe they were bleached by the sun."

"Did you hate having hair that much?"

Lex pressed enter, sat back in his chair. He pursed his lips. "No. I hated having to shave. I hadn't counted on it being such a fuss. But I actually kind of liked having hair, even if it didn't exactly made me look normal…" He cleared his throat, shrugged again. "The reason I won't come near that treatment is that it takes away all other side effects of that part of the cure that was established with my blood. And that also means all after effects of the meteor shower. My healing factor," he added for good measure.

Chloe nodded. Then she frowned. "I thought you used Clark's blood to create the final treatment."

"Yes, but his blood didn't regrow their hair. It cured them, and cured them completely, so it's safe to take away any remnants of my healing system, but it can't undo what meteors did to me." He smiled thinly. "I should know that. And I am not willing to trade in my lovely regenerative capacities for a luxurious fringe."

She nudged him. "You just don't want to get the flu again."

"Yes," he drawled, "there's that as well, yeah."

She soothingly stroked his knee. "I still love you, you know, even without a luxurious fringe." She was pleased to see that he didn't flinch anymore—or maybe he simply thought she was wholly facetious.

"The heavens shine down on me." He shot her a grin to take the sarcasm out of his words, and then typed a few more lines. "There. Done. So, where are your rebellious teenagers?"

Chloe looked around. There were discretely staring faces everywhere, but she couldn't find her new friends among them. "They should be here any moment."

"Relax. I'm in no hurry. Do you want more coffee?"

Chloe always wanted more coffee. And lo and behold, when Lex returned, the spunky threesome just entered the building.

They took to Lex like almost all teenagers seemed to take to him. He had a natural way with them—like an adult to another adult, she suddenly realized. When she had been a teenager herself, his way of treating her, Clark and Pete like this had only seemed logical to her. Only now she noticed that it really was his way of addressing children like equals that made them open up to him so easily.

_Good god, _she thought, while she watched him chat with Ta as if they'd shared lunch at high school, grilling him on the subject of gangs and Phoenix Fire without the boy even noticing, _imagine him coming to Smallville without half the country prejudiced against his name and his family. He'd have had everybody in his pocket within a week. _

What would have happened, then, she wondered. Would he still have turned out the man he was now?—someone she loved and cared about a lot, but still, someone of whose myriads of dark secrets and strange, psychotic, neurotic tendencies she was very much aware.

If we hadn't known who Lionel Luthor was before Lex came to town, and if Mr. Kent hadn't hated his guts because of his history with Lionel…If the Kents had taken him in as Clark's friend…taken him in like they did me…would he still have had all those nightmares he's having now?

She doubted it. But right before she could start feeling pity for poor corrupted, socially-condemned Lex, she noticed how he had already made Lung and Ai-li promise to check up on the girl they'd had taken to the hospital, and manipulated Ta into prodding his brother in the basement for information about the Phoenix Gang.

She gave an internal snort. She loved the guy, really. No, really, she was mad about him. But Christ, no one should be able to stage-manage people like that; it was criminal. And he did it with such EASE! Freaky. _Imagine a totally unprepared Smallville full of gullible people raising their smiling faces to Lex and Lionel Luthor._ Despite her deep affection for the first of the two, she couldn't repress a shiver. Because even if Lex hadn't been rebuked again and again by the good people of Smallville, he still was his father's son. And even though all he ever wanted to do was the Right Thing, his ideas of Right and Wrong so differed from what was the Smallville moral standard he could as well have destroyed the entire place. They had all seen what happened when Lex got rabid fans when he ran for Senator…

Before her mind could paint a disturbing picture of an army of bald boys and girls willing to die and murder for their grand leader, she focused her attention on the three musketeers conversing so animatedly with her no-hair man. At the moment they were all agreeing that the glass plant would probably be a good thing for their town, provided it wouldn't destroy the flower fields on the south side of the mountains.

"My mom thinks so too," Ai-li said, staring straight into Lex's eyes with a minor flush on her face. Chloe couldn't tell whether the flush was because of the effort it was taking her to speak English, whether she had been snake-charmed by Lex, or whether she was just pleased with the total attention he was paying to her.

That was another thing that made him so attractive to children, she thought. No matter what he was doing, he put it all aside to listen attentively. There weren't many adults who were willing to do precisely that when it came to adolescents—and with good reason. Lots of adolescents made no sense at all.

"Is that so?" Lex asked. His voice had taken on that slow, drawling, almost purring quality he so seldom used with her anymore. Framed by the strange croaks, accent and halting speech of the three children, he sounded more smooth than ever. _Slick_, really. Lois would have called it 'slippery'. "If you wouldn't mind me asking, what does your mom do? Is she interested in working in one of the factories?"

"No," Ai-li said, smiling prettily. The word came from her lips with un-Chinese easiness. "She paints silk. We own big clothing shop—Nan Chu Lan Silks, did you see it?" Lex nodded. Of course he nodded. And he probably even HAD seen the shop. "My whole family works at shop. We do everything: get fabric, paint fabric, make designs, make clothes." She grinned widely. "High fashion. Lots of jobs. No Lan work at any shop but Nan Chu Lan Silks shop."

Lex chuckled. "I can imagine. But she doesn't mind strangers coming into Shueng?"

"No, no, no," Ai-li shook her head. "Good for business."

"Yes," Lex said brightly. "I totally agree."

Chloe was pretty good at bonding with people and then drilling them for information, but she had to confess she'd met her better. She just couldn't compete with two business-related spirits. Part of her wanted to be petulant because damn it! they were HER friends, HER find. But another part watched with fascination as the two boys and the girl divulged the secrets of their town with blithe ignorance. The whole thing was highly educative, and she was getting her questions answered without speaking a single word.

But Lex stopped his charm-offensive a few minutes later, and the kids took them out first to a particularly picturesque part of the town they hadn't seen yet, and then to a small café that served the best flower tea ceremony in town. The ceremony took over an hour, and personally, Chloe thought the tea she was served was the vilest brew she'd had in ages, but the experience was more than worth downing three cups of the stuff.

When they'd had enough of tea, Ai-li took them to her family's shop, and the three of them had a good laugh dressing first Chloe, and finally Lex up in traditional Chinese garb. Lex chatted with one of Ai-li's uncles, undoubtedly finding out more about the opinion concerning the glass factory, and apparently the uncle was in favor too, because they were invited for yet another cup of tea.

By now Chloe had to go to the bathroom every fifteen minutes; her belly was tight with tea. She didn't think she ever wanted to have another sip of it in her entire life. But visiting Ai-li's living room made up for her discomfort. The orchid was incorporated in everything in the room: in the woodwork on the roof, in the pattern of the drapes on the walls and the curtains, even in the wood carving of the furnishing. The china cup containing the pale green tea had a subtle white orchid motif, as had the tea pot. Instead of cookies, sugared flower petals were served on a dish shaped like a giant orchid. And so on, and so forth.

When she excused herself for a toilet break, she found out that even he tiles on the wall of the bathroom were embossed with the delicate flower.

It was a bit over the top, she concluded, but quite cool in a rather jingoistic way. She wondered if the entire family had an orchid tattooed on their back as well. Somehow, she was rather sure they had.

After the family visit, the kids took Chloe and Lex to a restaurant they frequented—which was owned by Lung's grandparents. Among the three of them, they had at least their basic needs covered: clothes and food. "I wonder if Ta's family is into banking," Lex murmured at one point. "That would complete the list of necessities."

The meal was gorgeous, and the elderly folk was not opposed to Lex's factory either. Lex offered to pay for the meal once, and was almost scolded by the old lady, who was instantly enamored of him. They had never left Shueng, not even to go to the big city, and had never bothered to tune in on tv channels that didn't have all-Chinese shows. The old lady touched Chloe's hair with an exclamation of wonder, while the old man asked Lex if he'd had cancer (as Ta translated in an outraged whisper to Chloe).

Chloe and the three youngsters gasped with shock, but Lex simply smiled and said something in Chinese that made everyone settle down again, and continue with their dessert.

When the three kids said goodbye, after delivering Chloe and Lex back at their rental car, Chloe hugged them all without reservation, and there was not a trace of manipulation to be seen in Lex's wide smile.

"See you soon?" Ta asked, just before Chloe got into the car.

"Definitely," she replied. "And thanks again. I really enjoyed myself."

He looked happy. "Good! Me too!"

"I'll be back at the internet café in a day or so."

"We're there every day, at four," Lung croaked, hoarse after an entire afternoon of conversation. "If not, send us mail, then we come. And if you want good meal, go to my grandparents' lestaurant. They give you good food, not tourist food."

"Well," Chloe said, after she'd closed the door, waved a final time and finally was alone with Lex again. "Do you think you can manage another five days of Chinese businessmen?"

Lex grinned. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I think I can. This was…nice! Uncomplicatedly nice! And I got a good idea of the opinion of the people on my plant as well, and on the whole it's very positive."

Chloe frowned. "You were not supposed to be working," she scolded him. "You were supposed to be having fun and not thinking about your big project."

"I _was_ having fun."

"You were doing a poll!"

"Which I consider the height of fun."

"If you start talking in your sleep again I'll record it and…" she trailed off. Lex's mouth had broadened to almost reptile width. He was positively frightening that way. "You know," she sighed, smiling, "never mind. I know you'll make up something far scarier to one-up me, so I won't bother."

"You're such a smart little girl."

"Don't get superior with me, Mister Luthor. You may be better at blackmail but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, myself."

He laughed. "That's what I love about you, you never back down. You can't imagine how refreshing that is. Even though," he smirked, "you'll never beat me."

"I made you say you loved me for the second time this weekend," Chloe retorted smugly. "While you haven't made me do anything. Surely that counts for something."

Lex rolled his eyes. "I said I loved your fighting spirit, not that I loved YOU. For a reporter, you sure have trouble getting the facts straight."

"Oh heavens! Did I misinterpret your words? Good god, how could I ever have got the idea that it was ME you loved, instead of my personality?"

"I really have no idea. Must be some kind of personal shortcoming of yours," Lex returned happily. He drove up the parking lot of the hotel, parked close to the entrance and gave her the car keys. "Here. A token of my affection."

"Gee, thanks."

"Is my lady displeased with the token?"

She'd already opened her mouth to snark something back about rental car keys not exactly being a ring, when she suddenly felt a tug of warning inside of her, and looked at his face, carefully studying his expression.

He looked happy.

He looked happy with HER.

And it occurred to her that, if she wasn't careful, a casual remark like that might make him plunge wildly ahead into territory she wasn't sure she was ready for—after all, when it came to maintaining steady relationships the man was a total disaster. So she leaned forward and kissed him and said she was very much charmed by the token. And then she leaned back from the hug of the safety belt, unclicked it and said she needed a bathroom before she started spilling tea again.

"Whatever my lady wishes," Lex laughed, steered away from any possible engagement notions without any heart-treading or hurt of feelings.

Or maybe she'd just been totally wrong about that in the first place.

*

The next three days went by peacefully.

Lex went to his daily meetings, and up to the sand mine with both the Sparkling Sources people and the local specialists. No one got hurt, but that might also be because Fu Yang and his bad luck vibe were left behind in the village.

Chloe spent several hours of a beautiful, sunny day under the protective half-closed gaze of the Buddha in the square, writing her piece for the paper. She had handed in six pieces for the Travel section so far, and Perry said they received positive reactions.

She spent the Wednesday afternoon exploring the lower hills with the tireless threesome, who had apparently decided that it was a noble cause to skip classes for this purpose—just as they had decided that breaking into the hospital files to try and find out about incoming patients was excusable as being a noble cause. Chloe knew better than to scold them. If not for them, she wouldn't have found out that the girl—Chi Chi Dong—she'd literally walked in to was still alive, and had left the hospital two days ago.

The three didn't know the girl. Neither did Wei, Ta's brother. For that afternoon, Chloe forgot all about Phoenix Fire and simply enjoyed her walk in the mountains.

The kids showed her yet another little shrine, hidden away in an overgrown narrow cave on a hill that, in spring and summer, would be covered with Shueng's famous red and purple flowers. Now the ground was covered only with winter green, but the eroded Buddha statue inside the shrine was surrounded by cultivated flowers.

"We found this one four years ago," Ai-li said, while she carefully took a silk-wrapped orchid from her coat pocket, "when we were playing. In summer, this shrine all but unseeable. Ta found it by chance." She placed the orchid in a flat bowl in front of the Buddha's feet.

"Yes," said Ta. He fished a somewhat disheveled rose from his pocket and put it next to the orchid. "Not many know of this one. But it still used." He gestured at the other flowers. "I never see anyone here, though."

Lung said nothing, but he had a flower as well. Chloe, feeling a bit guilty, searched for something she could offer the statue, and smiled gratefully when Lung gave her a white chrysanthemum.

These kids…they were so _amazing_. Here they stood, in their ripped jeans and dyed hair, with their rings and black eye-liner and Heavy Metal T-shirts, solemnly offering flowers to a forgotten god in a remote house of worship. What was more, they had taken care of her soul as well by bringing her offering as well, knowing she wouldn't think of bringing one herself. The contrast almost brought tears to her eyes. Because it was all real—not a pose, like Hope and her white Black Brother complex, or the Goths she'd seen flaunting their suicide attempt scars in Metropolis Central park.

Ai-li, Ta and Lung really were rebellious teenagers. But they really believed in their ancient traditions, too, even if they revolted against those rules that fitted too tightly around their free spirits. Chloe was sure Smallville had had youths like them; the Christian type, she supposed, but somehow, the surroundings made this so much more amazing. She wished she could take a picture, simply to capture her feelings together with the sight of these three paying their respects to the Buddha in the cave. But she feared it would break the spell, and therefore described the picture they made in detail in her head, hoping she'd be able to reproduce it in her next piece of writing.

*

On the same day Chloe went out with the kids, Lex visited the sand mine, and they met up at four at the foot of the mountain. Three days meant about 22 hours of meetings, and Lex was beginning to show signs of anti-Asian behavior again. After last Sunday, he'd been very mild towards the faults of his Chinese fellow businessmen, but when Chloe hugged him that afternoon, he was edgy and preoccupied again.

"More weird laws?" she asked, when it became clear to her he wasn't able to listen to her story of Buddhist bliss yet.

"Weird laws, weird people, weird customs," he grumbled, and kicked a stone into the bushes. Because of his trip to the mine he was wearing jeans and boots again, and with his hands jammed deep into his pockets he looked like an out-of-sorts lumber jack. It took him all the way to the car, and then all the way into town to chew through and swallow his frustration; then he relaxed behind the wheel, idled the car to the side of the road, close to an idyllic small park with a soothing fountain, and said, "I'm sorry. How was your day? Did you have fun with your little friends?"

"That's ok." Chloe opened her door. Behind a low stone wall, the murmur of the fountain beckoned like a siren's voice. The sun was setting, the bare trees had a golden hue and the spraying water sparkled in the soft light. "Come on out. We don't have to go back to the hotel straight away. Let's sit over there on that bench. I'll show you the pictures I've made today."

They did precisely that, and while the bench was stone cold and one of the fountain's decorations was disturbingly pedophilic, she soon felt Lex relax against her as she showed him today's pictures on the display of her camera.

"I wish you'd seen them. It was really intriguing, that clash between age and culture."

"It looks like a nice spot," Lex agreed. "Do you think you'll be able to find it back by yourself?"

"I think so." She nudged him. "I'll take you there the first time you've the time."

"That sounds wonderful." He leaned his head on her shoulder, more because he was tired than because of romantic feelings, she thought, and exhaled a long plume of condense into the air.

"Maybe we should go tomorrow? Were they horrid to you today?"

He chuckled. "No, they weren't. I just thought they meant something different than they actually did. And there was this other law…Ugh." He shut himself up by turning her head and kissing her for a minute or so. When he pulled back, he seemed more himself. "Ah well, at least Shanyuang didn't fall down any holes, and I kept my face intact. It wasn't all that bad, really, I'm just…Heh, I guess I'm just aching for a normal deal with backstabbing partners I can read correctly."

"You can read me, can you?"

"You're not my business partner."

"I stabbed you in the back?" She winced as soon as it was out of her mouth.

Lex shrugged. "Maybe." Again that easy acceptance. He smirked a little. "I could make a deal with you?"

"What kind of deal?"

"I don't know. Any kind of deal."

"You doing Right Said Fred if you fail to…"

"Not that kind of deal," Lex said hastily.

Chloe laughed. She got up from the bench, rubbed her cold-numbed butt and took a picture of the obscene fountain. "Come on," she said, pointing to a small statue at the other side of the park. "Let's see if that's a Buddha or a Bodhisattva, and then go and find a restaurant so we can eat."

"Isn't it a bit early for dinner?"

"Not if you wanted to make a deal," she blinked slowly, "with me. This evening."

"Right," said Lex. He got up as well. "Looks like a Buddha to me, by the way."

"Want to make a deal right now?" Chloe asked.

"Of course. Let's say…if it's a Buddha, you're mine to do with as I please."

_Road to reestablishing control, that way_, Chloe thought, amused. She almost hoped it was a Buddha. "What if it's a Bodhisattva?"

"I don't know. Make up something creative…something that doesn't include Right Said Fred."

"Deal. I'll let you know the moment something strikes my fancy."

"Deal."

The made for the statue at a run.

*

To Lex's severe chagrin it wasn't a Buddha. Then again, it wasn't a Bodhisattva either. The statue had four arms and breasts.

"Parvati," he muttered.

"Darn," drawled Chloe. She took a pic of the statue, and then he noticed another one in another corner of the park.

"That's a Buddha, though."

She grinned. "You positive?"

"Yes."

"Renew the deal?"

He held out his hand. "Yes."

She slapped hers into his palm. "Deal."

He started towards the other corner…

And something struck him with a sharp, stinging pain. "Ow." He swatted at his shoulder.

"What is it?"

"Something hit me." His fingers brushed against something small and hard; it was stuck in his coat and dislodged when he touched it. He caught it, brought it to his face to study it.

"Fuck." _Oh fuck, no, not now, not again._ And then: _Why me? Why always me? Why THIS time?_

"What is it?" asked Chloe. She grabbed his sleeve as she saw his expression. "Lex, what is it?"

"It's a fucking tranquilizer dart!" It was so, so WRONG that he could recognize these things at a glance. He thrust the dart into his pocket, patted his shoulder where it had hit him. It stung a little. "It only grazed me. Maybe I..." Gravity shifted, and his vision went gray.

Chloe's hands slapped against his shoulder as he stumbled into her. "Lex! Whooa! Keep standing!"

"Car," Lex gritted out. "We have to get to the car." He snapped his head around, looking for a possible assailant, but all that established was that his knees buckled and only Chloe banging her shoulder into his armpit kept him upright.

"Right. Can you walk? Walk. Come on. Where's the car?" She pulled him to the nearest exit out of the park, turned her head every way, searching feverishly for the dark blue of their rental Honda. "Where's the fucking car?"

"That way," pointed Lex. At least he could still walk. He had to lock his knees with every step or end up sprawled on the street, but both his momentum and Chloe's grasp kept propelling him forward. That was good. What wasn't so good was that he was falling asleep standing up, and even digging his nails into his palms wasn't enough to keep awake.

Chloe punched his side. "Wake up! Stay awake! Where are the keys? And where is that FUCKING car!" They had come out at the other side of the park, and she was disoriented in a way only women would get disoriented.

"Left...pocket..." Lex whispered. His tongue was doing weird things in his mouth. She dug into his pocket, hauled him straight when he started to fall over.

"No, no, no, keep standing! Ok, got 'em." She wildly zapped around with the remote—which was rather pointless, since they still needed to turn one corner and walk one more street.

Lex chuckled.

"WHAT?" she shrieked, and gave his arm another pull when he stumbled.

"Nothing," he whispered. "Left here. Do you see anyone?" He himself wasn't seeing much of anything. His eyelids kept dropping closed.

"No. But I hear people running. Come on, faster." She whisked him off around the corner, gave a shout of triumph when somewhere down the street a car whooped and flashed its headlights when she pointed the key at it. "Come on, just a little bit further. Please, Lex, just a little bit...They're coming closer."

He could here running footsteps too, now. He forced his eyes open, looked back in the direction the sound was coming from but saw nothing but white spots floating on an endless gray sea. His eyes rolled up—he could actually FEEL them lose focus and roll back into his head—and then he slammed into the door of the rental with enough force to make his teeth rattle. He neatly bounced off the door and would have been knocked down if Chloe hadn't thrown herself against him and pushed him back against the metal.

"I'm sorry," she panted. "I thought you'd stop."

"Wrong," said Lex, and fell asleep. She slapped him full in the face, and the sting of it shocked him back to consciousness.

"Uh-uh, stay awake. Come on, Lex, stay awake. Here, come on, get in. Get in and stay awake, I'll take you to the hospital."

Lex fell into the car, groping weakly at the seat to at least stay on his side of the car. "No," he gasped. "Not the hospital. Take me back to...the hotel."

She dropped down in the driver's seat. "The hotel? Why the hotel? What if you just got poisoned? I'm taking you to the hospital!" She thrust the key into the ignition, making the car roar and skid when she accelerated too fast.

"No!" Lex said forcefully. He twisted his fingers into the rough covering of his chair, for once glad that he was sitting in a car that did not have leather seats. The nylon rasped against his skin. "I don't want...to go...to...I don't want them to have my blood."

Chloe turned, and the engine howled in agony.

"For god's sake, woman, use the clutch! the clutch!"

"Shut up," she barked back. "Concentrate on staying awake, I'll focus on driving." She screeched to a halt to avoid hitting a huge flower pot, and only her instinctively thrown out arm saved Lex from smashing his head into yet another dashboard. "Put your safety belt on."

"Huuuhhhh..." Lex huffed, a mixture between a laugh and a moan. He fell back against his seat, and promptly fell asleep.

*

"No, don't!" Chloe snapped, and she hit him so hard it made her palm burn as if she'd slapped a stove it. But he jerked awake again, even if it was only for a minute. "Lex, I have no idea where we are! How do I get back to the hotel?"

"I...just follow..." His eyes were closing again and she really didn't want to hit him again. "Just follow the signs."

"What signs? I can't read them!" This town was no larger than Smallville, or maybe just a little bit, but already she was hopelessly lost in piazzas and parkways. _Why didn't I pay better attention when we drove out here?_

Lex groaned, more out of frustration than with pain—at least she hoped so. It would be very much like him to get more annoyed with the fact that she couldn't find her way than by being tranquilized. She had to admit this was rather embarrassing—or maybe she'd be embarrassed if she wasn't scared out of her mind. "Lex! I can't read them! Which one do I have to follow?"

He raised one hand, dragging it up over the dashboard before it dropped limply back. "Those signs!"

A sign flashed by. She thought she recognized the character: 佛. At least she thought she did; it might also resemble another character she'd thought about as a phone pole in front of a tower.

"Where's that go? What's it say?"

"Buddha," Lex muttered. He was fading again.

"That one leads to the square?" She turned brusquely, almost hit a couple of children playing football, and drove on. As far as she could tell, no one was following. There was no other car in sight, and they had left anyone on foot far behind. "Lex?"

But he was out, and not even pinching him brought him to.

Chloe followed the signs with the character for Buddha, and after endless roundabouts and narrow streets, she suddenly found herself back on the right side of the square. The Buddha towered over her, white and serene in the semi-darkness. She halted at a parking spot just outside the statue's shadow, suddenly shaking with reaction.

_Someone shot at us. Or at least tried to drug us! What if it's…No, he said it was a tranquilizer_. She reached out and pressed her fingers in Lex' neck. His heartbeat was steady and slow, he was breathing ok, he was just asleep and she couldn't get him to wake up. _For what purpose? Why'd they want to do this? Was this a kidnapping attempt? Or just a warning? And who? Who's they? The Phoenix gang? Or is this something else again…Were they after Lex, or me as well? Or me in the first place and they didn't follow us because…_

She clenched her teeth together. What about the Sparkling Sources people? Had they been attacked, too? She wasn't at all sure the hotel was safe, but where else could she go? For one moment she thought about going to the hospital anyway, just to make sure Lex really was ok, but just as quickly she dismissed that thought. What good would it do? If he remained sleeping for longer than an hour she could always call a doctor. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea in the first place; get him safely to the hotel and then call a doctor.

And she really wanted to check on Crystal.

Taking a deep breath, she restarted the car and drove up the road to the hotel.

*

For reasons she couldn't really explain even to herself, she did not want to drag an unconscious Lex in through the main entrance. She kept the car running on the parking lot for a few minutes, scouting ahead, but apart from the occasional guest leaving or arriving, no one was around. Still, even so, she doubted Lex'd appreciate it if she hauled his spaced-out ass through the lobby in full view.

She turned to look at him. "Lex? You up again?" No reply. She patted one cheek—not too hard, because she could still see the faint print of her hand on one side of his face—but still nothing. She sighed. "So what do I do with you now, huh? I can hardly leave you in the car. I could drive around for a bit until you wake up, but…" She jerked upright as she spotted Feng Lao coming around the building, dragging two large containers after him, one green, and one gray.

She hastily got out of the car and ran up to him. "Feng Lao!"

His gaze traveled up from the ground until it saw him. A hint of his perpetual sadness left his face at the sight of her, and he released one of the containers to raise his hand in greeting.

"Miss Surrivan. How are you?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Feng, I need your help."

"Help?" Feng Lao asked. He pushed the green container against the wall. A few yards ahead another square spot waited for the gray container. "How can I help you?"

"I need to get Lex…Mister Luthor inside, but not through the main entrance." One of Feng Lao's thin eyebrows rose a millimeter. "Never mind, come with me."

He looked confused, and gave the gray container a half-hearted push towards its destination, then, as she grabbed his arm and pulled him along, released the container and jogged after her.

Lex hadn't miraculously woken up in the meantime, which really was a shame. He was still sprawled over the passenger seat with the outline of Chloe's hand pink on his cheek. Feng Lao peered through the window, and then looked back at Chloe. "Drunk?" he asked calmly, and suddenly Chloe was so angry she could have shaken him silly.

"No," she snarled, only just swallowing the 'you yellow-skinned impassive motherfucker' that wanted to follow, "he isn't drunk! He was shot with a tranquilizer dart. We need to get him back up to his room."

"Tranquilizer dart?" the unflappable bellboy repeated. His face still showed nothing but the faintest of befuddlement.

God, but these people were tiresome. She would kill, KILL to have either Clark or Lois with her, who'd let their jaw drop to the floor, cuss a yellow streak and then either carry Lex up at the speed of light or fetch a wheelbarrow. "Yes," she said. "He won't wake up. And now I want to take him to his room but I don't want everybody to know what's happened, so…"

Feng Lao jumped to action. "Light," he said. A hint of color appeared on his face. "Keep this secret—no ploblem. You drive over there, to back of building. We have service entrance. And elevator for taking food to other floors, from kitchen. You go there, we take him out, put in elevator, go up to room. You have key?"

"No,' Chloe realized.

"You go get key," Feng Lao instructed. "Give me car key, I'll drive up to service entrance. You got room key, you come there, that door over there, gray door, I'll be waiting."

Chloe hesitated.

"Go!" he said, and with a snort of chagrined amusement she went to fetch her key.

*

Feng Lao kept his word. By the time she arrived at the gray door, he was already inside, with Lex draped over his shoulder, feet dragging over the ground.

"Come," he said, pulling her inside and closing the door behind her. "Very busy in kitchen, so we can pass safely. Can you help me? He's heavy."

"Sure." She pulled one of Lex's arms over her own shoulder, and they sneaked past the kitchen along the wall to the elevator further down the hall. In the kitchen was a din as if they were staging a war. However, when she peeked inside, all she saw was cooks cutting up meat, fish, vegetables and in once case one of their own fingers, cooks boiling rice and stirring sauces—they just made an awful lot of sound doing so. They were most certainly far too busy to pay attention to two secretive persons half-carrying a third person to the elevator.

They went to the third floor, where they exited, to Chloe's surprise, from what she had thought was a closet. It was on the far end of the floor, several hallways away from Lex's room, but Feng Lao found a linen carrier trolley, and once they'd draped Lex on top of it, they wheeled him to his room in just a few minutes.

By then Chloe was giggly with excitement. Sure, she was still worried, and part of her giddiness was probably caused by fear, but it was so ridiculous, sneaking past the kitchen as if she'd just stolen a famous painting instead of transporting her knocked-out megalomaniac bad boy to his room.

With combined efforts, they got Lex off the trolley and onto his bed, where he continued to be unconscious. She checked his pulse; it was still steady and strong, if very slow.

"He ok?" Feng Lao whispered, obviously influenced by the Solid Snakeyness of it all as well.

"I think so," she whispered back. She repressed the urge to push him away as he drifted closer and pulled up one of Lex's eyelids with his thumb. All she saw was white.

Feng Lao shrugged. He placed his fingers in Lex's neck as well, and exhaled through his nose. "I think so, too," he said softly.

She nodded. "Thanks for helping me."

His expression brightened temporarily, then turned even more sad. "You're welcome." He patted the handle of the trolley. "I'd better go back before they miss me."

"Right."

Feng Lao hesitated. Then, just as Chloe was about to ask him what was wrong, he shrugged again, opened the door and moved out.

TBC

Sorry for the abrupt stop, but the next one should come more quickly. And then…(rubs hands) . Oh, right, the name list. I'll put that up too.


	8. Chapter 7

Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews! As always, they are much appreciated :)

Before I forget it AGAIN, here is the list of Chinese people that appeared more than once. I think it's more or less complete, but if you missed someone, just ask!

_Shanyuang Yu (also known as Yu Jingli) : Manager of the Sparkling Sources group._

_Shanyuang Shu : Crystal, granddaughter of Shanyuang Yu, soil expert_

_James Wong : Mediator between LuthorCorp and Sparkling Sources_

_Mister Hua : One of the Sparkling Sources people_

_Mayor Fengfei : Mayor of Shueng_

_Feng Lao : Sad-faced, English-speaking bellboy at the hotel_

_Miss Zhen : Sister to the local business aide to Shanyuang, rents out horses_

_Mister Zhen : See above_

_Fu Yang : Friend to Mayor Fengfei and some sort of historian/tour guide/mining expert who appears to be jinxed to get other people injured_

_Lung, Ta and Ai-li : The Tireless Threesome, a couple of teens Chloe befriends at the internet café._

Seven: Paranoia flares

Chloe finished another round of aimless wandering around the apartment, sat down on the edge of the bed and shook Lex's shoulder. Still no response. He had been out for about half an hour, now. She wondered how long tranquilizers usually lasted.

I'll give him another half an hour. If he hasn't woken up by then, I'm calling a doctor.

Maybe I should call one anyway, make sure he's ok. He looks ok.

She fidgeted, wishing it was her lying there in blissful oblivion.

_I should've asked Feng Lao if the Sparkling Sources people are all ok_, she though._ He'd probably have known. _Again she got up. _If I run, I can check on Crystal in about a minute. _She had a room on the same floor, if she remembered correctly. _Lex should be ok by himself._

Still she hesitated. She didn't want to leave him, helpless like this, not even while they hadn't been followed. With a sigh, she sat back down—something hard and square dug into her left buttock, and when she patted her behind she found her Chinese phone in her back pocket.

"Chloe Sullivan, you're a moron. This excess of spare time has weakened your reporter instincts." She jumped to fetch her bag and fished out the silver business card box Lex had given her just before they left for Shueng, opened it and rifled through the astonishing amount of cards she'd collected over the last nine days. Crystal's was third—Ai-li and Lung had given her the cards of their parents and grandparents' organization. On the back of her card, Crystal had penned down her room number, and it was this number that Chloe called with the hotel phone. If she wasn't in, she could always call her cell phone, but…

"_Shì__,_ Shanyuang Shu."

"Crystal?" _Thank god. She's ok at least._

"Chloe?" Crystal asked. "Hi! Did we have dinner tonight? Please tell me I didn't forget about a dinner, I'm just heading out to go swimming!"

"No, no," Chloe reassured her. "You didn't forget anything. I just wanted to see if you were ok."

"Yes," Crystal said, puzzled. "I'm fine. Why? Are you alright?"

"Someone shot at us today."

"WHAT!?"

"Well, with tranquilizer darts."

"What? Are you ok? Where are you, are you here at the hotel? Are you ok? Shall I come over?"

"I'm fine," Chloe said. "They got Lex. He's out, but he's…"

"Waking up," Lex interjected from behind her.

She whipped around and saw Lex flapping about weakly, like an upturned tortoise trying to regain its footling. "He's coming to. Look, could you check whether the rest of your group is ok too?"

"Yes, and then I'll come over. Stay put!" She hung up, and Chloe went to fetch a glass of water. Fresh mountain spring water, straight from the tap. Who needed it bottled?

"Take it easy," she said, watching Lex try to push himself up on arms that clearly weren't obeying his brain's orders yet. "You're awake, that's what counts, so you can take it slow."

"Neither am I…tied to a chair…but while that's definitely an improvement to the usual script…" He cursed as he fell over, "I still want to shake this off as soon as possible."

"Water?"

"In a bit." He crawled around for another moment or two, until his arms could support him and he sat up, swaying, head hanging forward as if it were too heavy for his neck to lift up. Chloe came to sit next to him so he could lean against her shoulder. At first he did so, too, toppling slowly sideways and hanging so heavily she had to lean back in order to avoid being pushed aside completely. His eyes kept dropping closed.

"Do you want to sleep some more? It's ok, you can, if you want. You're safe."

"I don't want to sleep," Lex said stubbornly. He rubbed his eyes and promptly lost his balance again.

Despite it all, Chloe smiled. She stroked one side of his face—the hideous slap-print had thankfully faded by now. "You might not have much of a choice there, Chuck. Do you feel sick?"

"Just a bit unsettled. I'd like some water now, if you still have it."

She gave him the glass. He took a few sips, grunted, waited a moment, then drunk some more. By the time Crystal knocked on the door, accompanied by her grandfather and Mister Hua, he had more or less pulled himself back together again—up to the point that he'd lumbered to the minibar and tried to pour himself a glass of Scotch with shaky-at-best motor functions.

While she went to open the door, Chloe wondered if this sudden desire for liquor meant that the reason he usually drank was not plain alcoholism but to calm himself down, and whether that implied that he needed this artificial calm in Metropolis and Smallville because he was constantly afraid. He hadn't drank more than wine since he'd arrived here.

However, once the three Chinese had expressed their concern and then their pleasure at finding the both of them more or less alright, and Lex had finally managed to down a double shot and entered the conversation, she didn't notice any fear in his still dilated eyes.

On the contrary, unless she was very much mistaken, it was fascination animating his face. _Blissful is he who feels excitement by being shot at if the result does not include waking up tried to a chair or a table and confronted with maniacs with axes, guns, bottles of gasoline or hot pokers. _

But she felt the same tickle of anticipation. When Lex and Shanyuang began to talk, she automatically turned to Crystal to translate things to and for her, so she could voice her opinion as well.

*

"You are sure you are alright?" Shanyuang asked.

"Yes," said Lex. "I'm just a bit woozy, but I'm fine now."

"Either the drug they used to put you under was rather weak, or your body recovers very fast."

"It wasn't weak," Lex said. "It worked incredibly fast. Then again, it always does. You're right, I recover quite quickly."

"Still, why? You said you weren't followed?"

"We were," Chloe spoke up through Crystal. Lex translated the rest of what she said to the older man. "Just after Lex was shot, I heard rapid footsteps. But either they didn't have a car to follow us, or they didn't expect us to reach ours, or…I can't imagine why, but maybe they didn't want to actually catch us."

"A scare?" Shanyuang suggested. He rubbed his chin. "Aren't there better ways to scare people off?"

"Real bullets work better," Lex remarked dryly.

"Maybe I threw them off," Chloe guessed.

Lex didn't think so, but she shrugged, unwilling to contradict her in front of the Chinese. "Perhaps. Or we could have been followed without us knowing it. Or maybe they knew where we'd go, and didn't bother running after us. After all, you'd either drop me off at the hospital, or take me back to the hotel, right?"

"That's a scary thought," Crystal murmured. "Spies at the hotel."

"Let's not panic before we are certain panic is necessary," Mister Hua advised. "It won't do us any good."

"I am not panicking," Shanyuang said. "However, the circumstances may warrant more than just caution."

"What do you mean?" Lex asked.

Shanyuang shrugged, but his eyes belied his casual demeanor. "At first sight, this town is open and appears friendly. But there are a growing number of happenings I not much care for. Apart, they mean nothing. All together, however…" He took a breath, as if preparing for disclosing something unpleasant.

_Face_, Lex thought. _He's losing face, or lost it and hid the fact from me. Me, and Hua too, I bet._ He took another sip of whiskey, relishing the slow burn in his stomach. The whiskey drove away the last effects of the sleeping drug. To his surprise he realized it had been some time since he'd had a glass.

"As you know, the Sparkling Sources have been corresponding with the Mayor of Shueng for over half a year to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement," Shanyuang began. Lex nodded. "While Mister Wong was our correspondent to you, correspondence with Fengfei ran largely through me. I never met him in person, but we mailed and telephoned frequently. Then, two or three months ago, he had a car accident."

"I know of that," Lex interrupted him. "But not through Wong. He never told me."

"Perhaps he did not think it important. After all, by then the project had already been set in motion, and it was unlikely that even the Mayor's demise, if it _had_ come to pass, would halt it. Slow it down, perhaps, in which case Wong certainly would have notified you, but…" He raised his hands in the universal 'C'est la Vie' gesture. "It was a tragedy. Fengfei lost his wife, and was injured himself. However, after a week or so of silence he called me to say that business was to commence as agreed. However, ever since his accident he seems…different."

"In what way different?"

"His phrases differ. His grammar is different."

"Does he really say 'grammar'?" Chloe whispered to Crystal, and Lex mentally rolled his eyes before he chastised himself because really, how could he expect her to know about the seven thousand different ways of putting a sentence in Chinese?

"Yes…It's…The form of address," Crystal whispered back.

Lex ignored the women for the moment. "Different as in brain-damaged?" he asked. "Or a different person?"

Shanyuang slowly shook his head. "It doesn't seem to be so. He conducts business in exactly the same way, but something seems…off. When I met him for the first time, last week, as well. He is polite and hospitable, though different in person than I had expected, and I can't put my finger on it, but still. Perhaps it is because of the accident, though. The grief over his wife, his own disfigurement…such things change a man. A I understand it, he's only recently taken up his office again. And I might have brushed it off," he continued, "if not for several other small incidents. One is my own unfortunate slip in the cave, last week."

He rubbed his hands on his knees, smoothing his pants, perhaps to dry the palms. "I," he said, "am not very fond of heights. They don't terrify me, but I do not enjoy great depths, or gaping holes in the ground. I did not come close to the edge of that shaft, but it was as if the ground beneath my feet was pulled from underneath me, and then I was falling…"

He swallowed, suddenly looking old. But then he raised his head, and his mouth formed a forbidding line. "I must confess something to you, and beg your forgiveness. When you saved me, I for one moment suspected you of setting the moment up."

"What?" Lex said, baffled. Ok, he wasn't above such things, but here how could he have known he'd have the chance to manipulate fate a little?

The older man made a calming gesture. "I beg your pardon. I knew even then that you couldn't have laid out a trap. You had never been to the cave before. However, that vulturous slug…"

"Fu Yang?" Lex said, amused.

Shanyuang looked like he wanted to spit at the sound of the name. "Yes. I don't trust him."

"He seems like someone fate does not take kindly too," Lex admitted.

"He has no function," Shanyuang said, shaking his head. "Who is he? Why did he come along in the first place? He is not involved in anything concerning the business, and neither did we need him when we went up into the mountains. Miss Zheng could have lead us by herself—but no, he came along. I don't like people whose purpose I cannot define."

Lex shrugged. He, himself, wasn't all to keen on people he didn't know either, and his paranoia was probably much worse than the old man's. But Fu Yang had been so… cowed. His one-time Law school buddy Felix Brockx had had a similar streak of hard luck, only it affected only himself. Lex had never seen anyone accidentally rip, fold or stain that many pages from law books before. As far as he'd noticed last December, the man still had a purple spot on his left hand where he'd splashed himself with some of their home-brew chemicals. Most of the time the people suffering under those spells of bad luck most, were those who caused it. "He could just be a friend of the Mayor's, and eager to help? I got the impression Fengfei would have lead us around himself, and Fu Yang offered to do so in his place. He did seem to know a lot about the temple; maybe he's some kind of historian."

"I don't like him," Shanyuang said stubbornly. "I didn't like him being around when I fell, nor when you cut yourself on that broken glass. When the gods afflict someone with misfortune, it must be for a reason."

_Eeeew_, the heretic in Lex meeped, coiling in disgust. He knew all about prejudice, but this was like saying a child with Down was divine punishment onto its parents. He shrugged internally. "Could be," he said noncommittally. "You mentioned other minor accidents?"

The manager shrugged. "Small things, yes. Tiny things, really, if you regard them apart. But again, together…

'Before we could come here, part of the valley had to be mown to accommodate the airplanes. The mail I sent to achieve this, was lost three time due to lack of internet. The planes could not be parked there, either, and had to leave for Xue Dong after dropping us off." He paused. "Once, Crystal said she thought she was being followed."

At this, Crystal nodded shortly. "I didn't think it worth mentioning. Nothing happened."

"Yesterday," her grandfather resumed, "Mister Huarang's—Crystal's assistant, you'll remember—soil analysis kit was gone. Crystal had a spare one, so the work was not delayed, but he said he had put it in the back of the car to keep it safe, and it was gone.

'And now this attack on you. An attack that, as you say, is more strange than threatening. It strengthens my sense of unease, though."

Lex tapped his fingers against his lower lip. "You're right. Any of this individually sounds like nothing more than incidents and pranks. Not this last bit, though, nor your fall at the cave, if it were staged. What do you want to do? Leave?"

The man threw his head in his neck. "Most certainly not! The plans are sound, and the completion of the first stage of the project are imminent. On the whole, the town seems to have a positive frame of mind when it comes to the glass factory…"

"That's true," Lex nodded. "I've been talking to people regularly, and of the eight or nine people I spoke yesterday and this morning, only one person was opposed to the arrival of a factory. And he was an elderly man, and the elderly are often opposed to change."

Shanyuang nodded his agreement—which saved Lex from saying 'No offense meant, of course'. Apparently the manager didn't count himself as old, yet. "Precisely. No, I have requested body guards. They should arrive from Xue Dong tomorrow afternoon."

"Body guards?" Chloe exclaimed. Crystal was still translating. "I don't want body guards!"

"Bullet, bleeding body, Buddha," Lex told her, and to his relief she kept her mouth shut. Maybe he should put her on the very plane the body guards got out of, and send her back home.

Yeah, right. As if she'd let me.

"And what about the Phoenix Fire?" Chloe asked.

"_A_?" both Crystal, Hua and Shanyuang asked. With Lex's help, Chloe told them what she had found out about the Phoenix gang—which wasn't all that much, but which made all three of them frown.

"We didn't know anything about that," said Crystal. "You don't happen to have a sample, do you? I might be able to see what substances it contains."

"Not of the Phoenix Fire," Lex said, suddenly realizing something. "I do have something else that I'd like you to identify, though, if you would." He got up, picked up his coat from where Chloe had tossed it down, and gingerly felt inside his right pocket. The dart was stuck in one of his gloves.

"Here." He carefully placed it into Crystal's open palm. "It's my dart."

"You managed to save it!"

"I have learned from experience that keeping the object that brought you down can lead you to the one who shot it," Lex said with more than a hint of irony. The same counted for poison. If no one had had the presence to check his brandy while he was choking on the oxygen in his blood in the hospital, and find out about the poison his father had used to bring him down, he wouldn't be standing here, and Lionel would've been a filicide. He had learned to keep the weapon that slew him if he could.

"I'll go check on this immediately." Crystal shot to her feet. "But not here; in the lab downtown. Perhaps I can trace its contents, and thereby the ones who attacked you."

Lex doubted she'd find anything useful, apart from the drug's substance. Still, that was more than he had himself. "Don't go anywhere on your own," he said. "It isn't likely anything will happen, but we shouldn't take any chances."

"Right. I'll take Wong with me, and Huarang. I'll need his help anyway. Grandfather?"

Shanyuang and Hua got up as well. "We will go as well. Most of the others already know of my decision to employ protection, but I'll notify the others as well." He held out his hand. "My sympathies for what happened to you today, and my heartfelt gratitude for staying nevertheless. I will try to make our further meetings short and to the point."

_And yet another concession signed with my blood, _Lex thought, more than a little amused. _It's almost as if whoever is pulling the strings here is trying to get me as much of an advantage as possible._

When they had all left the room he poured himself another drink.

Chloe fidgeted on the couch near the window, then abruptly stood up and went to sit on the bed. "Should you drink alcohol?"

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It might clash with the drugs they shot into you."

"I feel fine," Lex said truthfully. But he put down his glass and sat down next to her. "How about you?"

"Me? What should be wrong with me?"

He smirked. "You might be scared?"

Chloe huffed. "I've faced more than enough scary meteor freaks and thugs to not be impressed by a bunch of suckers who can't even catch a fainting billionaire and the one dragging him to safety."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I am, however," she continued, "going to put my mace back into my purse."

"That is very prudent of you," Lex said, chuckling.

She thwacked his shoulder. "Don't you laugh at me!"

"I'm not laughing at you."

"You are! And I brought you back to the hotel, too, just like you told me."

"So you did, so you did."

"As a matter of fact I think it's YOU who should take the mace, not me."

"Your purse as well?" Lex asked. He put his arm around her. "I don't think it'd fit in my pocket."

"Christ, you're such a moron." She leaned her head against his shoulder. When she spoke next, her voice was lower. "You really have the worst luck in the whole universe, don't you?"

"Don't let Shanyuang hear that. He'd hate my guts for being cursed by the gods."

"But you are really, badly, horribly ill-fated."

Lex shrugged. She was right, but there wasn't much he could do about it. With another woman, he now might fawn, 'But I have you! How can I be unlucky?', but he suspected Chloe wouldn't take kindly to that kind of mushiness.

"Where would you be without me by your side to save you?" Chloe reflected, and he laughed, because in a way, that was exactly what he just hadn't said for fear of being mushy. He was just about to kiss her senseless when a knock interrupted him. Chloe was at the door in a jump.

"Yeeeeee-es?" she inquired.

A soft voice answered. "It's Feng Lao."

"Feng?" She opened the door. "What is it?"

"I wanted to see if…" he stopped and stared at Lex, who stared back pleasantly. "You're awake."

"Yes. Chloe?"

"Feng Lao helped me get you up here without anyone seeing you spaced out like that," she said quickly, before he did something silly, like punching Feng Lao out. "He's been really helpful."

"Has he?" Lex smiled. He checked his watch; after all this fuss it was now almost six-thirty. "Perhaps he'd like to be even more helpful?"

The bellboy regarded him with open expectation. For once, his closed features were unguarded, almost baffled. "Yes sir?"

"What is on today's menu?"

"Excuse me?" Chloe exclaimed incredulously.

Lex shrugged. "I'm starving, and it's dinner time. We might as well have dinner. I'd rather not go hungry while brainstorming."

"That is…!" she stopped. Turned her face back to Feng Lao. "That is actually a pretty good idea. What _is_ on the menu today?"

Feng Lao mechanically spat out a number of Chinese courses, and translated, "Pork in Sichuan sauce, chicken in black bean sauce, stir-fried mixed vegetables, and rice. We also have egg rolls, spring rolls and dumplings."

"Sounds good," Lex said. "I'd like to have it brought up here, please."

"Of course, sir." The man's astonishment slowly disappeared from his face. "What would you like to drink with it?"

*

Half an hour later, Lex and Chloe sat at the table, enjoying the relief of being able to eat with common cutlery instead of chopsticks (something they only did when there were no impassively smirking Chinese about) while they discussed the current turn of events.

Lex had briefly hesitated over the food, considering poison and other drugs, but had then decided that it would make no sense at all for the hotel staff to poison their guests. He was glad he could push his paranoia aside like that. If he couldn't, he'd probably have to live on vitamin pills. So far, he especially enjoyed the chicken.

Eating was soothing. It was such a common thing to do, and things always appeared more positive with a full stomach. Chloe, he was happy to see, also seemed less jittery with a couple of spring rolls inside of her.

But full stomach or not, they still had no clear answer to what was going on. Chloe suggested a rival gang to the Phoenix gang, but that did not clarify anything. Neither of them could think of a reason why anyone would want to scare someone by shooting them with tranquilizer darts and then not abduct them. With bullets, yes. With tranquilizers, no.

"Perhaps," Lex said, "I should simply do what's the most logical thing to do. Call the consulate and tell them something's wrong here."

"Does Xue Dong have a consulate?"

Lex consulted the list with Embassy and Consulate numbers and addresses he'd downloaded into his organizer. "No. The nearest is in Shanghai. But Xue Dong has a Magistrate's office which has the same function as a consulate. Only it has doesn't have an American representative." He dialed the number, mentally switching to Chinese while waiting for someone to pick up the phone.

No one did. He frowned.

"What is it?" asked Chloe.

"Nothing." Chloe thwacked his arm.

"Don't 'nothing' me, you twat! Tell me. I'm with the press!"

He shot a look that was part amusement and part annoyance, then decided it would be easier to voice his worries and let her reporter mind do with the information what it would than to hold back and make her worried as well.

Still... "I'm sure it's nothing, but I can't reach the consulate."

"Well, it IS a consulate, or something like it."

"No, you're wrong about that," Lex said. After ten rings, a recorded message began to play. He listened to the polite voice that told him, first in Chinese and then in English, that the consulate was not available, please try again at another time. "Consulates should pick up the phone after the first ring and THEN leave you hanging for an hour or so. Or maybe a day. This is just..." He broke the connection, tapped the cell against his chin. "Strange."

"Don't you have internet on your phone?" Chloe asked. "Maybe you can find out what's wrong. Maybe there's been a bomb scare or something."

"The hotel manager said the internet was..." He stopped. His cell informed him that the connection was excellent. He slid out the miniature keyboard and accessed his LeXCorp email. It opened after a few seconds, showing fifteen unread messages and an invitation to a meeting.

"What?" Chloe asked, twisting her neck to gaze at the tiny screen of his cell phone. "Do you have reach?"

"Yes," said Lex. He exited Outlook, switched his keyboard's settings to Chinese characters and opened the internet, typed in the address of the Xue Dong magistracy. The webpage informed him that the building was closed until further notice. He frowned.

Chloe was trying to peek over his shoulder. "What? What?"

"It's officially closed until further notice." There was a link. He followed it, and read that the magistrate of Xue Dong, Aiguo Bohai, had died two days ago, at the age of sixty-nine. His _Chargé d'affaires_ was abroad at this moment, and would return to take over the magistracy as soon as possible. There was no further information available.

_Is this a coincidence?_ Lex thought, feeling anxiety slowly settling in despite his attempts to reason it away. He didn't believe in coincidences. "The Magistrate is dead."

"Oh." Chloe frowned as well. "Well, that explains the building being closed." She sounded as doubtful as he felt.

Closing the site of the magistracy, Lex accessed and then stopped, at a loss of what he was actually looking for. Contacting the consulate at Shanghai probably wouldn't gain him anything; it was too far away, and what was he to say anyway? That he might be in danger, but wasn't sure, and wasn't planning to leave anyway? Finally, he simply typed in the pinyin characters for 'News' and 'Shueng' and searched for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.

He found it after fifteen minutes of browsing through the local news site of Shueng, and would have missed it if Chloe hadn't pointed over his shoulder and said, "Don't those characters mean 'Mayor'?"

"Yes?" He was impressed. Well, he knew she was a prime reporter, but damn, the girl was observant.

"Well, I might be being wrong, but I don't think that's our Mister Fengfei on that picture." and she pointed at the picture whose caption she couldn't read apart from the characters for Mayor, which showed a stern-looking man speaking behind a table in front of the Buddha statue. "His eyes are different. Or am I mistaken?"

Lex looked hard at the picture, and then at the text underneath it ('Mayor Fengfei during the opening of the yearly Spring Festival, 2007'), and then at Chloe. "No," he said. "You're right, it's a different man. They do resemble one another, enough to be brothers. But you're right, even if his face was damaged by a car accident, this is not the man we've met."

She stuck out her tongue, caught a stray lock of hair with it and pulled it into her mouth. "If _we_ noticed," she said, chewing, "other people must have noticed, too. I mean, you know what your own mayor looks like, don't you?"

"If he appears in public you do," Lex murmured. He searched for any evidence that something, anything odd, had happened in Shueng in the past few months, but found absolutely nothing apart from the crash he had just mentioned. "If you don't see him, you don't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I sincerely doubt that, apart from the Sparkling Sources people and us, anyone has seen our good Mayor in the last two months or so. Remember what Shanyuang said? He's only just resumed his position. I haven't seen him appear in public at all, and…" He paused, thinking fast. "No, it was only with us. I was surprised," he recalled, 'when we were invited for dinner at his own house. The Chinese usually aren't all that eager to invite people over unless they know them well. And when he came to that party where Fu Yang made my glass explode, he'd been wrapped up in scarves from head to toe when he arrived."

"So Shanyuang was right, or at least you were right," Chloe said. "This man is an imposter."

Lex nodded. "Must be." And suddenly he wasn't calm anymore. Suddenly being shot at with tranquilizer darts no longer seemed like a cheap prank. Nor was being unable to piece everything together enough to make him want to stay and figure it out. There had been too many times he'd decided to stay against his better judgment, and every single one of those times he'd come to regret it. "We need to get out of here."

"What? Now?"

"As soon as I've called Xue Dong to get my plane ready."

"What about the Sparkling Sources people?"

Lex got up. "We're going to see them. Now. And unless he can give me a VERY convincing reason to stay, we're leaving tomorrow. Come on, come with me."

Chloe padded after him as he exited the room at a brisk pace. "Why the sudden rush? Didn't the old man say he'd ordered body guards? If they arrive tomorrow, why should we leave on the same day?"

"Unless body guards are now able to pluck bullets out of the air, I'm afraid I'm no longer content with a body guard I've never seen before." He realized she was running after him like a dog on her shorter legs, and slowed down a little. "Call me paranoid. I've been betrayed too often to place my trust in people I don't know."

"I don't think you're paranoid." He truly loved this woman. "But I do think you're overreacting a little. I mean, yeah, it's weird that the Mayor's a substitute. But wouldn't it make much more sense if they…whoever 'they' are, are targeting the Sources people, and you were just, I don't know, in the way, so they shot you to scare you off? After all, they didn't follow us. It was as if they were just driving us on. Maybe they really are trying to assassinate Shanyuang, but they have no reason to attack you, do they?" She took a few fast steps so she could look him in the eye. "DO they?"

Lex sighed. He turned a corner, slowed down, and finally rested his back against the wall. "No," he said. "they don't. I swear. I have done nothing to anger anyone, nothing illegal, nothing even unfriendly."

"Well then. There's no reason to run off."

"On the contrary. If people start attacking me for no apparent reason, it usually means that someone ELSE has done something illegal, and if I get caught up in it—worse, if YOU get caught up in it—I have no idea how to get out of it again. I refuse to get involved with someone else's downfall. No, I'll talk to Shanyuang, call my plane, and tomorrow we leave."

He crossed the last few meters to the manager's room and knocked on the door.

Mister Hua's voice asked 'Who is it?' with satisfactory suspicion, just as he heard a mobile phone go off inside.

"It's me. Lex."

A key was turned. "Come in. Ah, Miss Surrivan, too. Come in."

"Fengfei is an imposter," Lex said, before he was even inside. "And the Magistracy is down. I want…"

Shanyuang interrupted him. His face was stark white. "Crystal…" he said, and his whispering voice trembled like an old man's. "Her phone just went dead."

*

"I will go check on her," Hua said, after the longest three seconds Lex could ever recall.

"I'll come with you," he said immediately.

"You don't need to…"

"I won't let you go alone. Yu jingli, call the police." Shanyuang nodded. He reached for the hotel phone. "Chloe,"

"I'm coming with you, too."

"No." He pulled her aside. "I need you to stay here, with him."

"But I…"

"I need to know you're safe, and I need someone to baby-sit him as well." She snorted. "Do you have your phone with you?"

She held up her purse. "Yes. Both of them."

"Good. You have to call the other Sparkling Sourcers…"

"No." She raised her chin with such stubbornness he was almost taken aback. "YOU call them. I don't speak Chinese, remember? And Crystal's my friend. And Wong should be with her, right? Well, he's my friend too. You stay with the manager, me and my mace," another shake of her bag, "are coming along with Mister Hua. Who knows, she might just have run out of batteries. I'll call you once we get there, ok?"

And before he could clobber her over the head and tie her to Shanyuang's bed, she'd quickly kissed him and dragged Hua after her to her hotel room to get her coat and head for Crystal's lab.

*

Apart from Crystal and Wong, four of the other Sparkling Sources people were missing, or at least, could not be reached by phone. They had gone out to have dinner in one of the many small restaurants down town.

"Maybe they've turned off their cells," Lex said, not believing his own words. Shanyuang's room felt unpleasantly crowded with seven people present. For the umpteenth time he checked his own cell for messages. Only ten minutes had passed; Chloe and Hua couldn't have reached the lab yet, but already he was tense with worry.

_I should never have let her go_.

The Chinese were all talking, sounding like a flight of birds. A few of them wanted to follow Hua, others wanted to go out and search for their other missing colleagues. Shanyuang, so far recovered he could claim authority again, spoke up and told them to remain together. "Hua will call me when he gets there. It might be nothing." His tone, like Lex's, was much more convincing than his expression. "Until we hear his report, I suggest everyone stay here."

Lex severely disagreed with him. Fine, let the Chinese stick together, he was going to wait five more minutes, and then…He almost dropped his phone as it emitted a shrill beep, snatched it out of the air and answered it. "Chloe."

"Lex." She was whispering. "Oh, god, Lex, they've killed him!"

He jumped as Shanyuang's phone went off, then realized Hua was calling him just as Chloe was calling Lex. Good, let Shanyuang explain to his people what was going on. As for Lex, he wasn't going to wait here. As the Chinese turned their faces towards their manager, Lex quietly slipped from the room and headed towards his own. "Who's dead?"

"Wong. They killed James Wong! And Crystal…"

"She's dead?!"

She sniffed, and Lex walked faster. He juggled with his phone to get the key from his pocket…and then realized that Chloe had taken the room key with her when she'd gone off to get her coat. He stopped in his tracks. "Chloe, is she dead too?"

"No. She's gone. And her assistant too. I think someone must have taken them—there are signs of a struggle. Broken glass…Wong must have tried to fight them off."

Lex's mind raced. The keys to the rental were on the table, he recalled seeing them there. Chloe had put them there. He tried the door, but it had fallen closed in its lock. _I'm going nowhere without a car. Damn it!_

"How'd he die?" He couldn't even feel sorry for the man. Not now. The secret part of him that insisted he was the world's savior, usually so well hidden behind his egotistical, self-serving personality, had pushed away all emotions apart from the overwhelming need to Go Forth and Protect.

"How? How do you mean?"

"I mean…was he shot?" In the background, Hua was speaking rapidly.

"Shot? Uh, no. No, I don't think so. He's…his throat's been slashed. There are cuts on his arms and hands as well, and one on his face. Oh god, poor man!"

"Chloe!" He took a few steps back from the door, until his back was against the wall, and prepared to kick in the door. "I want you and Hua to stick together and go back to the car. The police is on the way. You have to get out of that building."

"They're gone, Lex," she said. "There's no one here but the two of us."

"I don't care. I'm coming to get you. You've taken Hua's car, right?"

"Yes." She paused. "But I have the key to our room. I'm sorry, I should have given it back to you."

"You shouldn't have left in the first place," Lex said tightly. "I'll just kick the door in. Ok, now get back into the car and stay there. I'll come and pick the two of you up. I'll call you back as soon as I'm in the car."

"Ok," said Chloe in a small voice, and he stuffed the cell back into his pocket.

He was just about to test his karate skills on the door when, like a Jack-in-the-box, Feng Lao appeared at the other end of the hallways, carrying a bucket filled with roses.

"Mister Luthor?" he said, and even in the grip of Protective, Self-Sacrificing Instinct, Lex had to smile at the wonder in the man's voice. _What the hell are you up to now?_

"Feng Lao." He put his leg down, never losing his cool. "Do you happen to have a master key? Miss Sullivan accidentally took the key with her when she went into town."

The bellboy nodded. He walked up to Lex, put the bucket on the ground and fished a big bunch of keys out of his front pocket. "You must leave," he said softly, while he inserted the key into the lock.

"Excuse me?"

Feng Lao did not look up from the lock. "Do not look at me. Keep your voice down. They listen. Maybe see, too."

Lex governed his face to a mild impatience even as his skin began to prickle. "What the hell is going on?"

"Wrong key," Feng Lao said aloud, and inserted another. "I don' know," he whispered. "But something…wrong. You should leave, and her."

"Goddamn it, Feng…"

"Shhh." He turned the key. "Miss out, in town?"

"Yes," Lex hissed.

"Go get her. Get out. Or you'll get caught in between."

"In between _what_?"

"I cannot tell you." He pushed the door open, the sadness in his respectful smile more pronounced than ever. "There you go."

Lex hesitated, torn between the need to know what was going on and his desire to go and get to Chloe. He saw a similar look on the other man's face: conflicting needs to give a more specific warning and…fear. Feng Lao was scared to death. His fear was infectious.

"Thank you," he said. And he mouthed, "please!"

Feng Lao lowered his head. For one moment Lex thought it was a gesture of shame, or apology, but then he heard a very soft, "They are in temple. It goes deeper than you might think. Phoenix wants factory. Temple people don't. I can't tell you more." He bowed, and was gone.

Lex ducked into his room, snatched the car keys from the table and ran to the elevator.

*

She did not pick up the phone.

He called her three times, hoping against hope he'd misdialed, or pressed the wrong name, but she never picked up.

It took him ten minutes to reach the laboratory. It was quiet, and he noticed a distinctive lack of police.

_Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is NOT good!_ He stood at the entrance, looking at the half-open door, wishing he had a gun, or even Chloe's mace. _Stop stalling. Go in. Find her._

_What if she's dead?_

_NO. She won't be dead. Why would anyone want her dead?_

_Why would anyone want Wong dead, either? _

_She ISN'T dead. She ISN'T. She can't be._

He entered the building.

TBC

Ok, it's taking me a bit longer to get to the promised action, but I hope to update later this weekend, so you shouldn't have to wait too long :D


	9. Chapter 8

Yay, I made it!

Now, sick sadists and other nasty people, you will like this chapter. Others…it gets nasty from here on. Poor Lex, he always draw the attention of the wrong kind of people…:D

Have fun! R for nasty torture thingies.

Eight: Needlework

The hallway was well-lit. The walls and the tiles on the floor were white, causing Lex to squint at the brightness. The building was entirely silence, and his mountain boots made heavy thumping sound with every step. He wished he were wearing his ordinary shoes, with which he could sneak like a thief. The jeans were better than slacks, though. Slacks made quiet swish-swash sounds as he walked, while the jeans, soft and supple like flannel, made no sound at all.

He had been here only once before, when Crystal had given a presentation of the different kinds of sand she had found both in the cave and out of it. Her lab, graciously equipped by the hospitable people of Shueng, was on the first floor.

Lex took one glance at the elevator, sneered, and took the stairs instead.

His boots echoed. The silence was making him crazy; he seemed to make an awful lot of noise simply because the rest of the building was devoid of any sound. Every few steps he halted, waited, listened, but when he stood still the only sounds he heard was his own heart pounding in his ears, and the wind outside, rustling through the trees that touched the building…and something else, something that somehow reminded him of ships. For the rest…nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing was completely freaking him out.

Stop it. There is no reason whatsoever to panic. So quit it. Breathe regularly.

He breathed. After a few in and exhales he felt better, if no less worried, and he took the last of the stairs in five great steps. Crystal's lab was the third door on the right; the first was a broom cabinet, the second the bathroom. The doors on the left were all closed. In those rooms was no light. Something moved in the back of the first room he passed, making him start, but almost immediately he realized it was only the sunscreen, still down, and fluttering in the wind. They had been down on the ground floor, too. Apparently they were let down and rolled up manually, probably by the cleaners, and no one as yet had come by to pull them in. If he listened carefully, he could even hear them flap and creak in the rising wind. _That explains that weird ship sound. They aren't sails, just screens._

To make things even more spooky, the TL lamp furthest down the corridor was on the blink and sent irregular pulses of light through the hallway.

_Just like a horror movie, _he thought, and that thought calmed him down significantly. Cliché didn't work on him. He pushed open the door. It was closed but unlocked, and opened without even a squeak.

The room was a mess. Broken glass and material everywhere, one of the work benches was overturned, and a cold draft blew in through a broken window. A large, heavy piece of machinery had toppled over and fallen clean through it. The metallic screech of the sunscreen was louder here, without the glass; without sun it was a nasty, ghostly sound.

Despite himself, Lex felt his breath come quicker.

There was no sign of either Chloe or Mister Hua, but on the far side of the room, against a banged-up steel cabinet, lay a limp figure in a pool of blood.

_Wong._ Now he saw the man's body, he felt the sharp pang of regret he hadn't felt earlier. He hadn't really liked Wong, had hated him, even, on occasions, but this the man had not deserved.

Lex squatted down next to him, making sure he could keep the entrance in his sight, and studied the body. Slashes everywhere. He had been killed with a knife—a sharp knife. Something like a katana, or the Chinese version of it? No. The cuts were various in size, but rarely longer than ten or fifteen inch, and bit deep into his flesh, needing only half an inch to sink bone-deep. A knife, then. The slashes were very thin, very deep—his right hand was almost cut in two, and one of his shoes was cut as well (karate, Lex thought. He tried to defend himself with a high kick); not only the leather top, but the sole as well. Through and through.

_A razor, _Lex thought. He balled his hands to fists. _Someone cut him up with a razor._

He almost had a heart attack when his phone went off. The sound squealed through the empty room like the cry of a chain saw, and it took him four tries before he could finally fish it out of his pocket.

"What!?" he snarled.

A second of silence. Then, in Chinese "This is Shanyuang Yu speaking."

"I noticed that on the display," he hissed back. "You sc…" he stopped.

"Where are you? Have you arrived at the lab yet?"

"Yes. I'm here."

"Did you find my granddaughter?" the old man asked, and Lex exhaled his panic with his breath.

"No. Hua and Chloe aren't here either. I did find James Wong, though. I'm sure Hua must have told you he's dead."

"Yes. He did." The other Sparkling Sources people tutted and tittered in the background. "He is not there, you say?"

Lex looked around, but no, Hua wasn't hanging from the ceiling, or stuffed into the cabinet either. He walked through the room, taking in the scene while he talked. "No. Did you hear what happened to him?"

"I'm not sure. We were still speaking when I think I heard something break, glass cylinders perhaps? And then there was screaming. The phone must have fallen then, and your…Miss Sullivan cried out a word in English. Then, the line went dead." He paused. "I'm sorry, I should have called you straight away, but we were so concerned about Bento and Singh…This was perhaps eight or nine minutes ago."

Lex waved at the air. "Doesn't matter. Yu _jingli_? Can you remember what word it was Chloe called? She's a smart woman, she might have tried giving us a clue."

"It sounded like 'yu'. Does that help you in any way?"

_Yu_. You. With emphasis: YOU!. Someone she'd recognized, then.

"Maybe. It's someone we know."

"Perhaps we should come over," the manager suggested, but Lex cut him off immediately.

"And lose even more people? Don't be absurd. No, you stay there, don't split up, don't move, don't go anywhere. I'll try to make my way back, and then we're going to call both the American consulate in Shanghai and whatever official organization you have out in Xue Dong that can help us."

"But the police…"

"Mister Shanyuang. There's no police here."

"What!?"

"There is no police. Nothing."

"But I called them ages ago!"

"They are not here. There is…hang on a minute." He kneeled down next to the overturned table and carefully pushed aside a few shards of broken measurement equipment. Behind it lay an oblong, dark object. A cell. The display was crushed, the key cover snapped in two. "I've found a cell phone. It's not Chloe's, so it either belonged to Hua, Huarang, Crystal or Wong. I'll take it with me."

"Thank you," said Shanyuang. "Now, please return to us as quickly as you can."

"I will," said Lex. He disconnected and got up…and stared straight into an unfamiliar Asian face, not two feet away from his own, on the other side of the table.

"He's here!" the face called, and lifted something in his hand…But before he could do whatever it was what he wanted to do, Lex planted both his fist and the broken phone into the man's face, and ran towards the door. Two other men appeared in the opening, and they had their razors already unfolded. Shaving razors. The old kind, that you could flip closed like a jack-knife and keep in your pocket. Lionel used to have one; he'd brought it with him from Istanbul when Lex was still a child.

Having just seen the effect of such a knife on a man's shoe, Lex thought better than to try to kick it out of their hands—instead, he veered off to the right, snatching up a glass container filled with sand as he made his way to the window.

The man he'd knocked down was climbing to his feet, blood streaming from his nose and cuts on his face. Lex picked up another heavy object—it looked a bit like a microscope, only cruder, and almost casually pitched it at the slow-moving target. It hit his head with a satisfying crunch. The man went down with a cry.

The two others had now entered the room, and were joined by yet two more. All had their razors drawn.

"Who are you?" Lex asked in Chinese. He kept inching closer to the window. "What do you want? What have you done with the people that were here?"

They said nothing. They wore dark gray clothes and sneakers that made no sound as they surrounded him—no masks, but somehow he doubted he would be able to recognize any of them on the street. Their faces had no expression at all.

He tried again. "What do you want with me? Do you know who I am?"

"You're building the glass factory," one of the men said.

Lex nodded, relieved. He relaxed a tiny little bit, more visibly than internally. "You're not of the Phoenix gang?"

A tiny twinge in the man's mouth. "No."

"Then you have nothing to fear from me. Now, where is…"

"You're building the glass factory," another man repeated, with such threat in his voice Lex sank back into his crouch. "And the time for subtleties has passed. The Phoenix has made certain of that." He reached into his pocket. "We don't have to kill you, and we don't want to. Although you really shouldn't have hurt our friend over there like that." He jerked his thumb towards his fallen comrade, who was still down. His eyes did not follow his finger; neither did Lex's.

"Fighting won't help you," the first of the gray clothes spoke up, taking a step closer. Lex edged closer to the window. He balanced the container in his hand, ready to throw it at any moment now. "You must have seen what happened to your friend, over there."

Neither of them needed to look at Wong to know who he meant.

Lex bared his teeth. "Where did you take the girl with the blonde hair?"

"If you come with us, we'll take you to her."

He snorted. "I don't think so."

"Shoot him," said the man in gray, and the man with his hand in his jacket whipped something out and aimed it at Lex.

He was prepared for it; the moment the man's hand left his pocket, Lex hurled the container at him, and it hit his wrist hard enough to break it. At the same time, Lex threw himself backwards and sideways, past the piece of machinery, against the broken window.

It was a spectacular move, the kind that looked fantastic in movies, but that, in reality, was more awkward and painful than anything else. It did work, though. He hit the window with his elbow, smashing it further, and landed hard on the sill, where he wobbled for two seconds before pushing off with one leg and toppling backwards. Two darts hit the glass and the ledge, one more hit his coat but didn't penetrate, and then he was falling down.

In mid-fall, he only had time to think _I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!_…before he connected with the sun screen over the window below Crystal's lab. He hadn't even been sure the rooms were positioned exactly above one another—but subconsciously his magnificent spatial perception must have calculated that they were, and that throwing himself out of the window was the only way to stay out of the gray men's razor-sharp claws.

He hit the screen and tore right through it, then landed on the ground with a bone-jarring crash.

For a few moments he just lay there, gasping with adrenaline and wheezing for air, unsure whether he was still in one piece or had broken every single bone in his body. A dart hitting the ground not half an inch from his face sent him floundering away, though, and since he could still walk, he assumed he must be more or less alright.

He'd assess the damage later, he decided; there were more gray men positioned around his car, and already the men in the building were screaming commands out of the windows, pointing.

Lex took a deep breath, forcing the air into his winded lungs, and started to jog away from the building.

He was coming to realize a few things in quick succession. One was that the situation was a lot worse than he'd had anticipated. The second was that there was no way he would be able to get Chloe out if he were caught himself. The third was that he would definitely get caught. Already he could hear the soft pat-pat-pat of sneakers running on concrete, and he knew that no matter how hard he ran himself, his capture was imminent. And if he were caught…

_I need help. Where the fuck is Clark Kent when you need him?_

And this was the final thing he realized: he needed Clark, and he needed him now. He wasn't here now, then he should come as quickly as possible. If not to save Lex, then at least to rescue Chloe. He'd be able to do it, even without Lex. As a matter of fact, he was the only person Lex could think of that was certain to find any hidden movement, sniff out any secret organization AND withstand any darts or drugs they might use to stop him.

Clark.

He noticed a warehouse to the left of him and tried the door. It was locked. He did to the door what he hadn't done to the hotel door and kicked right through it. As he fled into the building, which appeared to store clothing, he dug up his phone, hoping his fall hadn't damaged it.

It hadn't.

While he was running, he dialed Clark's number, and called. It took Clark a horrifying amount of time to pick up—Lex vaguely wondered what time it was in America; maybe the deep of night—no, it couldn't be, it was still day…He almost stumbled with relief when the dial tone stopped before the voicemail could kick in. He spoke before Clark could say anything.

"Clark,"

"Hey, Lex." The younger man interrupted him, surprise plain in his voice. "What are you..."

"Shut up and listen. I don't have much time," Lex snapped. He was still running as fast as he could, but apparently the fall had done some damage after all; his ribs hurt with every breath he took. "You need to record this—write it down or record it. Do you have a recorder at hand?"

Thankfully, Clark didn't start whining. "Yes, got one."

"Good." His plan, and how to get it executed, was forming in his head while he spoke. "Ok, you can delete this bit if you want but I really need you to come to China."

"Lex, what the..."

"Shut up and let me talk," Lex panted. No scuffing sneaker soles yet, but that wouldn't take long. "They almost have me and I need to...They have Chloe. And they'll have me in a few minutes. I need you to come and get her, and probably me, out, because I have no clue how anyone else will possibly manage that without superpowers."

He jerked and hit the wall as he heard the door slam open, and quickly ran up a ramp he saw in the gloom. Yes, they would have him in a few minutes. But he'd make it as hard for them as possible.

"Now make sure you tape this," he said. "I'm in Xue Dong," He spelled it, and Shueng as well, and also mentioned the death of the Magistrate. He still had no clue whether the man's untimely demise was actually that untimely, but mentioning it would lend his message an extra urgency, and urgent was what he was going for. "Right now," he went on quickly, "this town is ruled by two rivaling gangs and there is a small civil war going on at the moment…" Perhaps a bit of an overstatement, but anything to get him here faster.

"You'll need the army to get in here—army, S.W.A.T., S.E.A.L., I don't know, civilian hostage situation, foreign kidnapping…use whatever term will get their attention—and you'll probably need my father's help as well." As he said it, he knew it was an excellent idea. Lionel could speed things up, even if he didn't have the means to influence the army. You never knew whom dear old dad knew, which minister or high-ranking official he could blackmail… "He will be able to help you and the army get in faster, through his own…special…means. Don't bother trying it through the usual, political channels. Governmental influence has ceased, here."

Only, would Lionel listen to Clark Kent? Probably. He'd been just as fascinated by Clark as Lex was himself. But would he believe him? _He has to._ Lex pressed one hand against his side, feeling something grate inside of him—broken bones, probably. Great. How to convince Daddy that his son was in trouble and that he needed his help to get him out?

"Let my father listen to this tape as well—you are taping this, aren't you?"

"Yes," Clark said, short and to the point, for which Lex was extremely grateful. He needed to think, and he needed to get some air. He noticed a room that wasn't closed and ducked in, finding himself amongst hundreds of suits, hanging on washing lines like shooting practice targets.

"Good. Good. Hang on." He quickly moved to the back of the room, plunked down behind a line of suits, and closed his eyes, thinking on what he should say to his father. Something to convince him the situation was serious. _Alright. My authorization code to level 3._

"Dad, this is Lex." He slowly pronounced the seventeen numbers that made up his code, and continued, "I'm afraid to say that the China deal has blown up in my face." Despite the situation he sneered, because he could just imagine the look on his father's face upon hearing this confession. "Mister Wong is dead. So is the mayor of Shueng—or rather he's been replaced by a man called Fengfei. He leads one of the gangs here, the Phoenix gang. Apparently the glass factory building suffers from squatters, and they form the other cartel. Drug related of course. They're experimenting with a new kind of…"

The door creaked open.

"Fuck."

He got up and started walking again. There was another door just ahead of him; he hoped to god it was not locked. It wasn't. He slipped through it and whispered ever faster, "They have Chloe Sullivan, I don't know where, and I don't know what they want with her. She's been missing for two hours now." Again, a little white lie, but he needed Clark to get in gear NOW. "At first I'd hoped she'd simply ran away but I am pretty much convinced either of the gangs has her. It can be that they're just holding her because they want to get to me, but I…I just don't know. I don't know what they want, I'm not even sure I'm pursued by the same gang that has her. Maybe they'll demand a ransom, but I doubt they'll get through to the West, so that's unlikely. I already tried contacting the authorities but I can't reach anyone. I think the ambassador over this region might either be assassinated too, or deposed, or maybe he's in league with them…or maybe it's simple bureaucracy that's against me…"

He cursed again as a high, male voice shouted something in Chinese, and he broke out at a run again, never halting his stream of information, wooshing it out every time he exhaled. "Chloe Sullivan is related to General Lane…" he panted, remembering so suddenly and mentioning it in case Lionel had forgot that. He could hear footsteps again, and more voices, and tried to run faster. He could, but talking was becoming almost impossible. His ribs creaked in protest.

"He should be able to pull some strings in the army…He might be able to penetrate the area and get her out… Get Clark with him to bring this out to the rest of the world…I need a reporter I can more or less trust to actually print the truth, so…There is no one here I trust, or know, really, no contacts…" _Except Feng Lao. They must speak to Feng Lao._ He began, "But one of the hotel people…" But then something hit him in the neck, and he yelped at the sharp, unexpected sting of it.

"Lex!" Clark shouted, the sound screeching through the connection.

"Huh," Lex breathed. His fingers crept to his neck, encountered a small, hard object and pulled it out of his flesh. It fell the moment he'd pulled it out; his fingers had lost feeling. He was still walking but his feet seemed a very long distance away. "They shot me." _Again._ "With a…tranquilizer dart." _Again!_ "Right. At least I hope it's a tranquil…tran…" His tongue got tied. His eyelids dropped down, too heavy to keep open. "Fuck it. I guess they don't want me dead…yet."

Unless they'd unfold those nasty razors of them, of course. He wasn't going anywhere. Funny, really. He'd gone to so much trouble to get here, and now he wanted to leave so badly and they wouldn't let him go. He gave a rather desperate chuckle. "So. Clark. This is not a trap. Or a ruse to get my…" _No. He's taping this. _He slid against the wall, legs collapsing_._ He could only hope he'd given both Clark and his dad enough information to get into China.

"I'd appreciate it if you could come and pick Chloe up…Me too if you…" One of his numb feet got caught behind something on the floor, and he fell, cursing weakly as his ribs hit the ground. The phone fell from his hand. From far away, he thought he heard Clark shouting his name, but of course, that might be his imagination.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out was a voice he knew, a soft, Chinese voice, saying "Be careful. Don't hurt him. Hurry, before he wakes up again." And then he lost consciousness.

*

He surfaced twice while he was still being moved. Once he couldn't get his eyes open and only registered the humming of a car. The second time people were dragging him through hallways and he could see the tiles of the floor. Expensive, gleaming marble tiles. One showed the embossed motif of a phoenix.

That should make a connection in his head, but all his famous brain could come up with was 'Fuck!', and when the light of the hallway disappeared his awareness faded, too.

*

The second time he woke up it was much like—only a few fucking hours ago!—the first time: awareness was quick enough to reassert itself, but his responses were sluggish. It took him several minutes to focus his eyes, and even more to realize that he was, damn it all to bloody hell, tied up. Not to a chair, but spread-eagled, on some smooth, cold surface. Instinctively, he yanked at his bonds, but he couldn't even feel the bite of his restraints in his wrists yet, and stopped it, instead focusing on getting his senses back.

"Thirty-six minutes," the same soft Chinese voice spoke up from his left. "Truly, I'm impressed."

Lex rolled his head to the side, facing the man leaning casually against a small steel table a few feet away from him. His eyes widened as he recognized the round, plain, now smug-looking features.

"Fu Yang," he whispered. '_You!' It was you Chloe saw. Oh, sweetheart, why didn't you say his name?_ "Where is Chloe?"

"The blonde girl? Well, she isn't here," Fu Yang said pleasantly. "I'm surprised you're this uninterested in your own current location."

"Where is she?"

"Safe." He reached behind him, picked up something from the table and took a step towards Lex. "No harm should come to her—after all, she has nothing to do with all this. She's just an innocent bystander, isn't she?"

"Why was she kidnapped? She was kidnapped, wasn't she?" Fu Yang nodded absentmindedly. "Why? Answer me! If she was just an innocent bystander, why was she taken?"

The man smiled. "Probably because she was at the right place at the wrong time, or vice versa. I couldn't say. I'm just a scientist, or a humble historian," the smile grew wider, "or guide, or helpful servant. I am whatever is most useful at the time. The blond girl is no concern of mine. I can swear to her well-being if you wish; they won't hurt her. My interest is solely in…you."

Oh Jesus Christ another nutcase, why the hell do I keep meeting these psychopaths!? What the hell is he up to, what the hell does he wan from met, why the fuck did he tie me up here and why the FUCK is he looking at me like I'm some kind of golden dumpling?

Fu Yang raised the hand he had kept hidden so far and lifted a scalpel to Lex's left hand. Lex's guts coiled in terror, but all he felt was a tiny prick as Fu Yang gently jabbed his thumb. "Do you feel this?"

"Yes." It came out in a gasp. He swallowed, tried to ignore his fear. "Yes, I want you to swear."

Fu Yang looked up, puzzled. "I'm sorry?"

"I do want you to swear to Chloe's well-being. I want you to swear they won't hurt her."

The man blinked. "I am prodding you with my razor and you think about her?"

"I'm a romantic," Lex snarled, futilely trying to use the wave of anger that ran through him to establish some kind of authority. "Swear it! Loss of face to you if you were speaking unthinkingly!"

Fu Yang regarded him without any expression for a few seconds, then threw back his head and laughed. "Fine," he said. "I swear it. She won't be hurt. If I have anything to say about it, of course. Like I said, my role is a minor one." Again, he pricked Lex's finger. "Do you feel that?"

Lex said nothing, then grimaced as the next prick went deep enough to make blood drip into his hand.

"Yes, you do," Fu Yang concluded, satisfied. He bent over Lex's chest and began to undo the buttons of his shirt—his coat was gone, Lex now noted. So was his sweater. "I must say…wonderful. Most men exposed to that poison are out for at least two, sometimes three hours."

"What do you want?" he asked, wishing his voice sounded firmer than it did.

"What do I want?" he carefully folded both sides of the shirts to the side, ran a tentative finger over Lex's ribcage. "Nothing. I pretty much have what I wanted."

He had put his knife aside in order to undo the buttons; now he picked it up with a fond, dreamy smile.

"It was such good fortune that I noticed how quickly that wound on your face healed," Fu Yang said, and drew his scalpel across Lex's chest with great concentration. The blade was incredibly sharp, so sharp it hardly hurt when it sliced through him. The tickle of blood running down his side was more disturbing than the actual cut. Whether it was because he was still fuzzy from the tranquilizer, or because he simply couldn't believe someone was actually CUTTING him he didn't know, but he didn't freak out. Not yet.

"And your hands, as well," Fu Yang continued lovingly. "Imagine to think I would simply have let you go if I hadn't known."

So that's why the guide had been so eager to stay close to Lex. And that's why the glass he had given Lex had exploded. He'd simply been making sure he wasn't seeing things. As for his fingers…someone must have told him he hadn't been wearing band aids the next day. Or maybe he'd been watching from a distance. Lex cursed himself for a fool for being so careless. His inherent paranoia should have caught up with the man's attention.

"So you had set a trap," Lex said. "And originally not for me." Fu Yang nodded. "Were you targeting Shanyuang?"

"No. Anyone would do. And I wasn't even aiming to kill anyone; they just wanted to scare people off, slow down the business process."

"But...why?" Lex asked, momentarily distracted from his unpleasant situation by honest disbelief. Surely drug dealers couldn't be THAT bad at seeing business opportunities? "Wouldn't more job opportunities, more money, more PEOPLE mean more potential customers?"

The other man laughed, and shot him an admiring look. "I like your way of thinking. You aren't as self-righteous as the other Westerners I've met."

"I know how to make money," Lex said sharply. "And I know how people like you think. What you're saying doesn't make sense. Why would you want to scare off your clientele?"

Fu Yang nodded slowly. "You have a point. The plus side of Phoenix Fire is that it is highly addictive and would therefore ensure a dedicated number of regular customers. However, let me put it this way. If you knew that most of your potential clientele would die if they purchased your products, would you still want them to come and be in your way while you try to perfect the merchandise?"

Lex kept silent. His chest was beginning to sting. And something…something didn't make sense here. Conflicting interests. But it was difficult to concentrate with the blood running down his sides.

"It's lethal," Fu Yang continued. He picked up a tissue and carefully blotted the blood away. "Not always, but often. Too often. We don't want to kill people, we want to create an addiction and maintain it for as long as possible. Create a need and provide the supply, that is our motto. However, over forty percent of those taking Phoenix Fire die after the third of fourth fix. Their hearts can't cope. It doesn't have the same effect on every person, just on that rough forty percent. Still, it is far too much. We have to diminish the death count in order to create a fertile soil for our little plant-generated snow." He smiled thinly. "We have tried to adjust the components, tried a different way of filtering the powder, tried mixing it with other substances. We tried distributing it as a powder, and as an inhaler. Nothing worked. We've tested it out on men, women, children, the elderly..."

_The girl_, Lex thought. _That girl we got into the hospital. They'd tested it out on her!_

"There is no conclusive proof age or sex is of influence on the lethal reaction," the other man continued. "Some people experience no to hardly any problems...others die of heart failure after a few hits."

"What," said Lex, although he had the sinking feeling that he already knew the answer, "has that got to do with me?"

Fu Yang smiled indulgently. "You are a smart man, Mister Ruthor. I'm sure you've already figured it out." He stroked a tender finger along the now almost healed scar on Lex's chest. "You, my friend, are a work of art. A medical work of art. I have never seen anyone heal this fast before."

Lex swallowed an entire speech made up of useless warnings to get his filthy hands of his body; it was clear Fu Yang would do what he wanted to do and empty threats would get him nowhere. He repressed a hiss of pain when the scalpel cut another line into his stomach. Either the tranquilizer had worn off, or he was cutting deeper. Fu Yang carefully mopped up the slight spill of blood, added a drop of iodine and watched him heal.

"Truly magnificent," he said dreamily. He pulled at the edges of the last cut, making it gape open, making Lex grit his teeth in pain. "Amazing. If the cut is clean enough, you can actually see your flesh knitting back together." He pulled his gaze away from Lex's belly, smiled a little and suddenly made several small, deeper cuts that actually hurt a LOT on the right side of his stomach, where his skin was as of yet unmarked.

"And now," he said contentedly, "you're _my_ piece of art."

Lex clenched his jaws together. His forehead felt cold, and his hands and feet had gone numb. Black spots bloomed to flowers in his vision, and he bit down on his tongue to keep from passing out. Not that it hurt so much—although it did hurt—but the idea of lying here helpless while someone he didn't even respect was cutting him open was more than enough to make up for the pain. Despite his iron self-control, despite his EXPERIENCE when it came to being tied up, he was quickly losing his composure. Having a madman with a scalpel signing his name into his stomach would make anyone panic, he guessed. The fact that he was beginning to black out with shock and fear, however, was unacceptable.

"What the hell do you want with me?" he spat out through lips that only just didn't tremble. "You can't just shoot me up and note down the effects until I die!"

"Well," said Fu Yang. "actually, that was exactly what I was planning to do." He put his scalpel aside, dropping it in a bowl with water. A thin cloud of blood trailed up and disappeared. "But don't worry, I won't let you die. You're young, and you seem very fit." He trailed admiring fingers over Lex's pectorals. "Combined with that extraordinary healing ability of yours, your heart stands a better chance, and with a bit of luck I'll be able to find out what causes the adrenaline rush and correct it before you suffer any permanent damage."

He traced his finger over the first cut he'd made and wrote something down in a little book. "Besides, I'd hate to let someone like you die. You may not believe me, but I'd prefer to set up this business without any deaths at all."

He put down the book, walked over to a steel table on the other side of the room, and began to prepare a syringe with practiced movements.

Lex licked dry lips with an equally dry tongue. "You can't do this," he said, striving to keep his voice level. "My people know where I am. If I won't contact them they'll come here to find me." _Better not to boast too much. Better not let him know they're already coming—or so I hope._

"How?" Fu Yang asked pleasantly. He tapped the syringe to clear it from bubbles. "It will take them at least one week to get a visa. By the time they get here I will have either succeeded and shipped you off to a safe place...Or you will have died. I'm sorry, but your word holds no threat to me."

He came back, rolled up Lex's right shirt sleeve, took a rubber tourniquet out of his pocket and wound it around his upper arm. He waited until Lex stopped struggling, as he knew he would, because there was nowhere Lex could go.

"Should you experience heart failure at the first hit, I won't subject you to another dose," he said reassuringly, and plunged the needle neatly into Lex's elbow.

"Don't…!" he whined before he could bite his tongue…and then the Phoenix Fire raced through his blood, and everything…just…slowed…down.

TBC

Obviously all conversation between Lex and Fu Yang is in Chinese. I was just too lazy to put everything in Italics—which I also forgot in the last chapter. Bleh!


	10. Chapter 9

First of all, thank you for the reviews.

Guhh, this chapter took a lot more time than I expected. When I had everything in my head it seemed quite easy to explain, but to actually write it down is a lot harder. I'm afraid the next chapter will also take me a lot of time. But the one after that will be finished really fast, because most of it has already been written.

Anyway…

Nine: Lex starts a habit

Between the age of fifteen and twenty-one, Lex had tried out every illegal substance, both chemical and herbal he'd managed to get his hands on—and he'd had an unusually broad selection to choose from. Notoriety brought him to places where he could get anything he wanted. Wealth bought him the actual stuff.

He'd started on weed at Excelsior. Smoking pot is cool when you're fourteen or fifteen years old. Later on, he'd experimented with cocaine. He'd liked cocaine. It was clean. He did heroine once, but disliked skin popping, because it reminded him of doctors. He'd done speed, LSD and xtc, amphetamines (which only instilled in him an irrepressible urge to watch cartoons on TV), mescaline, mushrooms and ketamine. He'd done it with friends, on his own, pure, combined with alcohol, coffee, tea and pancakes; he'd smoked it, drank it, snorted it, swallowed it and very rarely injected it.

Phoenix Fire was unlike anything else he'd ever taken. He could feel it spreading through his body with every pump of his heart, filling his veins with liquid fire. The heat in his body brought sweat to his skin, but simultaneously made the air seem cooler, and that made him shiver. Like when he'd used acid, reality distorted, giving everything a fuzzy, wavery quality, as if he were opening his eyes underwater. At the same time, the Fire heightened his senses, and even though his heart started to beat rapidly, he calmed down, because really, the situation was so clear it wasn't worth panicking over.

He gasped as the cold surface of a stethoscope was pressed against his chest, but strangely enough the next cut Fu Yang made in his chest didn't faze him at all. Perhaps because he could feel the cold of unwarmed steel, but not the pain of damaged flesh.

"It's already got you, hasn't it?" Fu Yang's voice no longer emitted from him as it had done before. He breathed it out in colors, a bit like fog on a wintry night. White, and blue, and vermilion red and scarlet-tinged-with-purple.

"I wouldn't know," Lex said, and was satisfied to hear his voice come out as calm and sure as it would have in his own office in Metropolis.

The other man chuckled. He intently studied the wounds on Lex's torso. "Oh yes," he said softly. "you're gone."

*

Lex frowned. "I beg to differ." His muscles were twitching. He rotated his hands, wishing he could get off the table and move around. The air was trembling around the spare glow bulbs hanging spread out from the ceiling. There were no insects, but nevertheless he could imagine them so clearly he could even hear their wings beat against the glass of the lights.

Only now he had the time and inclination to look around him and study his surroundings. A basement, of some sorts. The more dramatically inclined might call it a dungeon. It was quite large, but low; the ceiling was little more than a foot above Fu Yang's head. The walls were gray and smooth, concrete, perhaps. In one corner was a Dixie toilet.

He blinked.

Yes, it was definitely a Dixie toilet. How quaint. Why would anyone want to place a portable toilet into his basement?

_For people like you, _Lionel whispered in his head. _For prisoners like you._

Something on his stomach tickled, and when he drew his gaze away from the pulsing shadows, he found Fu Yang cutting a deep, horizontal gash across his breast bone, deep enough to scrape over the bone itself. He felt the graze of the knife, but not the pain. The tickle of blood running down his belly, however, was unbearable.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that," he said pleasantly.

"All for the better cause," Fu Yang returned, just as friendly. He dabbed at the blood with a tissue, and Lex lost interest in his chest the moment the itching stopped.

He shivered. Something huge was breathing all around him, but the reason he shivered was cold alone.

*

Fu Yang was writing things down in his little booklet again. "What are you doing?"

"I am noting the time of injection, and the effects of the drug," Fu Yang answered readily.

"Instantaneous," Lex muttered, and again the other man laughed.

"Not quite," he said.

"What the hell are you talking about."

The other man made another notation. "It seems like you're coming out of it again." He picked up a mug and took a sip. Lex smelled the coffee from where he was lying and frowned. He had no recollection of Fu Yang having that mug before. Disquiet nagged at him, but he was still too calm to pay it any mind.

"Already?" he asked, fishing for as many details as he could. "it's not much of a rush, then, is it? How long till it started to work? About a minute? And now it's…what? A quarter of an hour later? Not much of a trip, if you ask me."

Fu Yang smiled. "Distorted sense of time," he said aloud, and wrote it down. He looked up from his booklet. "I injected you at precisely ten fifteen. It is now…" he checked his watch, "One twenty-two."

"_What_?"

"Which means that you react to it only slightly faster than my usual subjects. Wonderful! That means I can give you a bigger dose next time." He took another sip of coffee, picked up his stethoscope and listened to Lex's heart again. Lex could have told him the speed of its beating without any measuring device: it was on the precise beat of Mein Hartz Brennt. "Acceptable," Fu Yang muttered. "Fast, but steady." He removed the bell from Lex's chest, clacking his tongue when it stuck in a half-congealed smudge of blood.

"I've been out for over three hours?" Lex said incredulously. "That's insane. I don't believe you. There's no way I'd not notice that much time passing."

"Believe what you want." He finished his coffee, stretched. "You will make an admirable test subject."

"You will get nothing from me."

"I already have what I wanted to get from you today," the scientist answered glibly. "Now, do you need to use a toilet?"

"Excuse me?"

"If you do, I'll untie you, and you can do whatever you need in there," he gestured at the Dixie. "I'm going to leave you for quite a few hours. Your body needs to recuperate, and, to be honest, so do I." He smiled. "It's been a tiring night."

"Yes," said Lex, resolved to dig his thumbs into Fu Yang's eyes the moment he was free. He still felt no pain whatsoever, but no one, NO ONE could expect him to just accept this Mengele clone filleting him like a baked sole.

"Very well," the man said. He undid the strap on Lex's right wrist, took a quick step back and picked up a tranquilizer pistol. "You can untie the other straps yourself."

_Damn it._

There might be another chance.

Lex pulled at the fastening on his left wrist, finding it absurdly difficult to undo it. When he sat up to free his legs the whole world cantered, and he almost dropped off the table.

"Careful!" Fu Yang cautioned with a chuckle that had the color and smell of overripe bananas. "I'm not going to come within ten feet of you, so if you fall, you'll have to pick yourself up. There you go. A bit unstable still, ah? That should pass in a few hours. You'll sleep it off. Now," he continued when Lex had regained his footing, "as you can see, there's a lock on the outside of the toilet. If you do something I perceive in any way threatening, I will shoot you and lock you up in there. So I suggest you do what you have to do and do it as quickly as possible, because, like I said, I'm tired and I want to go to bed. And it will take a full day before I'll be able to return here, so…" He trailed off.

Seething, Lex entered the Dixie, did what he had to do but what he hadn't planned doing at all (his bodily functions having nothing to do with popping out Fu Yang's eyes, although admittedly a lot with pissing into his empty eye sockets), and came out again, still swaying, blinking at the throbbing lights. It felt wonderful to be able to move again. His muscles were thrumming like the strings of an electric guitar, making him twitch and shiver even as they threw him off balance.

"Very good," his warden praised mockingly. "I knew you'd be too smart to try anything. Now, please lie down again."

"No," said Lex. During his training to handle kidnappers, he had been advised to test the resolve of the abductor.

Fu Yang shrugged. "Fine," he said, and shot him.

*

When Lex woke up again, the basement was dark but for one small light near the door at the top of a short stairway, and his chest was screaming bloody murder. Most of the cuts had already healed, but the deep ones, like the one Fu Yang had made across his sternum, and the characters that made up his name on his belly, were sending pulses of agony through his entire body every time his heart thudded in his chest.

The other injuries he had forgotten all about, like his elbow and his ribs, had joined the chorus; the combination of stings, burns and aches made him gasp.

But worst was his heartbeat.

It HURT.

He had never felt like this before, not even after he'd looked up from seven lines of red-stained coke to find himself bleeding from both nostrils. It was as if his ribcage had been replaced by a thin case of glass, and his heart was a hammer intent on shattering it to bits.

When he'd been angry, or frightened, he'd had his heart beating in his throat, or his pulse pounding in his ears, but this was something entirely different again. Thud, thud, thud, it went, and his blood flowed inside his body like a tidal wave.

_Fucking hell! What is this? What's happening to me?_ His breath panted out with every beat, almost as if it were pushed out of his lungs by the force of his heartbeat. He hardly had time to gasp it back in, let alone scream like he'd intended to do. Yes, screaming would be a good idea. Make people notice him.

He had no air to scream. All he could do was whine with pain and growing panic, and finally pass out with relief and exhaustion when his heart finally stopped assaulting his insides and resumed its normal rhythm.

*

When Chloe woke up it was dark.

No. Maybe it was dark, but she couldn't be sure, because her eyes were still closed. When she tried to lift her eyelids, it was like trying to fold steel; they wouldn't budge.

_Open!_ She cried silently, panicking immediately. _Open, god damn it, open! Show me where I am! Open!_

Her mind was clear enough, but her body refused to react to her frantic commands, and that scared her shitless. For some reason she didn't think she was in any immediate danger, but what if she was lying on top of James Wong's mutilated body? When her eyes finally popped open, the first thing she did was verify that she was, indeed, lying on a foam rubber mat and not on a pile of corpses.

No, it was a foam rubber mattress.

She heaved a sigh of relief. After that first exhalation, she breathed in deeply several time, feeling her body return to her own command a little more with each helping of oxygen.

_It took Lex a few minutes to regain his motor functions, too, _she remembered. _And Lex heals like a worm._ For the moment, she didn't even bother trying to change her position. She studied her surroundings, only blinking her eyes if they lost focus.

She was, as far as she could tell, alone in a square room of about twelve by twelve. The walls were bare, and made of dark stone. No windows. No draft either, at least not where she was lying. The floor was cold, but again, no draft. The room was lit by a spotlight directed at the ceiling, high in a niche just below the ceiling.

_Where am I?_ She wondered. _And where is Mister Hua? Did they kill him? I hope to god no._

To her own surprise, she was not terrified. She had been, when those gray men burst in with their guns and their razorblades, but for some reason she was convinced it had not been them who had sliced poor Wong to bits. Why bother with weapons if you have stunning bullets? She'd been hit and out before she could even grasp her mace from her purse.

My purse!

She tentatively lifted one of her hands and, finding it operated more or less according to her will, slowly sat up, leaning her back against the wall. She huddled in her coat, thankful she'd taken the time to pick it up before joining Hua in the car.

Her bag was lying next to her. _Huh!_ She picked it up, opened it. Her fingers, still numb, fumbled with the fastening, but after a few tries she got it open and rummaged inside. Her mace was gone. So was the hotel room key. She felt another flash of relief, this time at the fact that she had put the keys to her house and car in the suitcase to diminish the weight of her purse. They would have taken those keys out as well, she was sure.

What was also in her bag, was her phone.

_The hell?_ She turned it on…and found out why they had left her the cell. She had no reception, not even the tiniest bit. _No reach? Oh come on, there must be a provider somewhere._ Pushing herself up, she walked around the room on tottering legs, holding on to the wall for support with one hand while raising the cell phone high with her other, hoping to find that one spot of reception.

Nothing. Not even a peep.

She went back to her mat and typed Lex a message that she was ok anyway, but when she tried to send it her phone informed her that it was unable to deliver.

_Damn it!_ Angrily, she threw the Nokia back into her bag and got up again. Her legs were steadier now, if still a little shaky, and she had less trouble keeping her balance. The room had a door, a narrow opening covered by a thick slab of rough wood. On her side, it did not have a handle, only an iron ring. She pulled at it, not really expecting the door to move. She was not disappointed: it didn't even rattle. Pushing did not accomplish anything, either. Neither did kicking, or slapping her palms on the door.

"HEY!" she screamed, hammering her fist on the wood, regardless of any splinters. "HEY! Let me out of here! Is anyone there? Let me out!"

Her voice bounced back to her from the solid wood, but the booming sound of fist-on-wood echoed through the space behind the door. A hallway, she gathered, or maybe a very large, empty room. She gave the door another kick.

"Mister Hua!?" she screamed. "Crystal? Are you there?" And after a moment's consideration, with more hope and even more fear: "Lex?"

Where was Lex? Was he here, too? There was no reason for him to be here; after all, he should be safe and sound at the hotel…No. _He said he'd come to get us. Did he run into those gray men as well? Is he ok?_ Lex wasn't the kind of person to put up his hands and accept defeat. He was more like Wong, she supposed, someone who fought when he should surrender, someone who smiled, disdainfully, in the face of hesitation to kill…

"LEX!" She slammed her hand down. "Lex, are you here? Are you ok?"

She jumped back when the door suddenly boomed back at her; someone had hit it from the other side. "Bi shang zuǐ bā!" a voice snarled, muffled by the wood between them. For a moment, she was frozen, then her anger spiked and she kicked the door so hard it actually quivered.

"Let me OUT! Tell me what you want with me and let me OUT!"

More angry yapping from the other side. She drowned it out by pounding on the wood, producing a sound not unlike a student band's base drum at the Talon. When the door burst open and a squat, gray-clothed man with a furious red face appeared in the doorway, ready to shout her into submission, Chloe shrieked so menacingly he blanched and threw the door closed again.

After that, there was silence, first stupefied, then resigned.

A few times, she thought she heard an answering knock further down the hallway, but she couldn't be sure. She tried the door a few more times, but it was and remained locked, and nothing she did could get it open. It didn't even have a key hole. Probably latched from the outside.

A dungeon.

Chloe fell back onto her mat, suddenly exhausted. She still wasn't frightened, at least not for herself, but was Crystal alright? And Lex? Would he appear in the early morning hours to set her free with that small superior smirk twisting his mouth, or was he locked up elsewhere in this dungeon?

What did they want with her, anyway? "I can't even understand them." Huh, that was a laugh. How long had she been gone anyway? She'd gazed at her watch several times, not even registering the time, but now she looked and saw that it was ten to one. Her phone, which showed the date, informed her that she'd been out for about four hours, not sixteen, or longer. Night, then.

Her shouting had made her thirsty. She didn't have any water, and she didn't know how to ask for it. The cell wasn't freezing, but neither was it warm, and she felt very much alone. Huddled in her coat, clutching her bag in her arms, Chloe sat in the half-dark, trying of a way to get out, until, after another two hours of fretting, she fell into an uneasy slumber.

*

"Good evening."

Lex groaned at the sound of Fu Yang's voice, then louder at the blinding light that pierced his eyelids. He twisted on the gurney, completely stiff after sleeping on his back in the same position, and stifled another moan as the movement pulled on the cut on his chest. His ribs were a bit better, his heart was quiet and regular as it should be, but his stomach felt tender, as if he'd drank too much the previous night.

"How are you feeling?" Fu Yang sounded genuinely interested.

_Of course he was. _"Peachy," he croaked, and managed a passable glare. Unfortunately, it slid off the bastard's jovial face like water from a Ferrari window.

"Good! Then we can get started straight away." He took out a small, rectangular box from his pocket, opened it, showed Lex a prepared syringe. "I did some adjusting earlier today," he said conversationally. "Let's see…Your color is good, nice and pink. Some shading under the eyes, but that's probably because of the after effects of the tranquilizer. Did you get any sleep?"

Lex kept silent.

Fu Yang's smile grew colder. He put down the needle, instead picked up his scalpel. "We can do this the easy way," he said, "or the hard way. The easy way means you tell me what I want to know, truthfully. The hard way I cut you open and read the answers I desire from your healing factor and your blood. I don't need to stick to your chest. You have other places I can cut without endangering your life. More painful places. I can use saltwater instead of iodine to cleanse your wounds."

Lex did not bother to respond. Threats he could deal with, even if he didn't relish the prospect of hurting more than he already did. But the threat itself didn't intimidate him.

Fu Yang, feeling his utter contempt, raised his eyebrows, and then smiled again.

"Interesting," he murmured. He stared at the crisscrossing scars on his chest, picked at a scab and watched a small drop of blood seep from below the tissue. He clacked his tongue. "Which reminds me. I need to take another sample."

"Another?" Lex asked, then bit his tongue. His throat was parched. Talking physically hurt. His stomach grumbled, not entirely sure it could actually deal with food but complaining at its absense.

"Of course!" The combination of the knife and that cheerful, enthusiastic grin was so…so…wrong. "I took some blood when they brought you in. That's the blood I used to test my new mixture on," he nodded at the needle on the table. "But you were still affected by the tranq, so I'd better take a new sample now." He proceeded to do so, chuckling delightedly when he found that the tiny wound of the injection yesterday had already healed.

"You might be interested to know," he said as he dropped the vial with Lex's blood into his shirt pocket, "that you seem to heal faster during the preliminary stages of Phoenix Fire intoxication."

"How fascinating."

"Isn't it?" He picked up the dose again. "Now, what I am wondering is: if I up the dose, will your healing speed up as well? Or will it collapse? Well. Only one way to find out."

Lex couldn't help struggling, but he might as well hadn't bothered.

"There, there," soothed Fu Yang, gently patting his shoulder. "You should feel better in a few minutes. Ah. I brought you some water. You must be thirsty. People usually are after being sedated. Here you go, just sip from the straw." He pressed a straw against Lex's lips, and after a moment of consideration he tongued it inside and sucked. Refusing water would be foolish—all he'd accomplish was that he'd grow weaker, and maybe not even that, because if Fu Yang simply pinched his nose closed he'd be able to pour it down his throat. Lex wasn't foolish, and unfortunately, neither was his captor.

He drank the water. It made the fish hooks in his throat disappear, but hit his empty stomach like ice. He began to shiver again. Or maybe that was the Phoenix Fire, he didn't know.

"There you go," Fu Yang repeated, and softly tugged at the beaker to make Lex release the straw. "I'll give you some Gatorade later. You may have noticed that I haven't brought you any food, but food might alter your blood work, and I want to have it as pure as possible for my tests."

*

"That is nonsense," Lex said disdainfully. His mind insisted he'd replied only a fraction of a second after Fu Yang's preposterous claim, but the other man looked up from what looked like a newspaper as if he'd been engrossed in it for some time, and Lex's words drew him out again.

Fu Yang smiled. He put his newspaper aside. "Yes, it is. But I figured that the less that goes in, the less that needs to come out, and since I don't want you to be uncomfortable in my absence, you have to agree with me on that account."

"Fuck you," said Lex calmly. The lights had begun attracting insects again; their wings buzzed and fluttered near the ceiling. "You don't give a damn about my convenience."

"A larger dose works faster," the other man determined, disregarding the subject of food. He had pulled out his note book again.

"No, it doesn't. I'm not…" He was stunned to silence as Fu Yang slashed his scalpel across his chest again. No pain, just the warmth of blood welling up.

"Yes," Fu Yang said smugly, "you are. I can see it in your eyes: your pupils are dilated. If I concentrate, I can even hear it in your voice: your tone is lower, your voice slower when you're under influence. And did this hurt?"

"No," Lex whispered, appalled.

"Well then. Let's see if you heal faster, shall we?"

*

"I have been thinking," Lex drawled while he watched the letters of his words drift apart in the air. They joined the many-winged butterflies that crowded around the light bulbs.

"Yes? About what?" At some point Fu Yang must have left and returned, because he was standing at the small steel table, dripping a light green fluid into an Erlenmeyer with an eyedropper. Another flask was heating over a Bunsen burner. The ghost of a purple flower haunted the steam coiling from the flask. It wailed its grief in a tiny, trilling cry.

"About the situation here. It doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?"

"You know what I mean," Lex said, annoyed.

"Not really," said Fu Yang, "since I don't know what you know and what you don't know."

"Then tell me what I don't know."

"Let me make you a better offer." He checked on one of the still-open cuts, wrote a number in his book. "You tell me what you know, or think you know, and I'll tell you whether you're right or wrong."

"Why?" asked Lex, immediately on guard. "Why tell me anything?"

"You're asking, aren't you? I am interested in what you've made of the facts. So if you won't indulge yourself, indulge me, and I'll let you walk around for a bit as a reward. What do you think of that?"

Lex considered the offer for a while. Even though the worst of his muscle spasms had already passed, he was still aching to move, if only to relief his poor back. And, if he were up and about, he might, just might, get another chance to sink his teeth into Fu Yang's neck and tear out his throat. Or his balls. Both. Simultaneously, if in any way possible. His hands cramped to fists above his restraints.

"Alright."

"Very well then. Why don't you start with what you know? And please try to remain focused. I can stay only for about another hour, and if you keep fading out you'll have to chew on your own thoughts for the entire day. Have a sip of Gatorade." He transported the straw from the beaker to a bottle of the energy drink. "The sugar will keep you awake."

Lex drank some Gatorade. He felt empty, but not exactly hungry anymore. He had no idea what time it was, or how much time had passed since Fu Yang shot him up when he'd come back. _If I still had hair, I could have measured time by beard growth. If I had hair, I'd be completely useless to the fucking bastard. God, I wish I didn't heal, was stupid, fat, and looked like Cousin It. _

"Mister Ruthor?" Fu Yang snapped his fingers over his face.

_Focus. _He racked his scattered thoughts together. "You claim there are two groups. Two opposing people. One that wishes the glass factory to be built, the other doesn't."

"Yes."

"But yesterday you told me that the Phoenix gang doesn't want the factory. And the men that attacked us yesterday said they didn't want it. But they weren't of the Phoenix gang."

"No."

"That is the part that makes no sense. If none of the parties wanted the glass factory, why go through the trouble of…of…" He trailed off, losing his train of thought. "Who made Mayor Fengfei disappear? Was he pro or against the Phoenix gang?"

"What do you think?"

"If I had any ideas, I'd have told you," Lex said snappishly.

Fu Yang chuckled a little. "What if I told you the good mayor was completely unaware there was something like the Phoenix gang?"

Lex scoffed. "It wasn't called Phoenix for nothing. I assumed it had to do something with his name."

"His family name, yes. Not him. Although the legend of the Phoenix is very popular around here, and this was the main reason the drug was called that way." He checked his watch, relaxed against the table. The ghost of the flower was dissipating; Lex wondered if that meant that the drug was leaving his system, or that the substance was almost done. "No, our mayor Fengfei was an honorable man—an ambitious man, desirous to ensure his name in the town's history, and his town on the map."

In spite of his own dismal situation, Lex was involved enough with the riddle to feel completely dazzled. "Then…I don't get it. I…just don't understand. Why replace Fengfei if he wasn't against the factory, and let his substitute go ahead with the plans?"

"Because Fengfei's death didn't fit in our plans. Besides, our current Mayor is a Fengfei. Just not THE Fengfei. You see, our good Mayor thought it was a good idea to build a factory—for no other reasons than what I said before: he thought it would put his town on the map, create job opportunities, etcetera. The…other group tried to persuade him it was a bad idea. His brother, and me…tried to convince him otherwise. Fengfei—the original Fengfei—decided to go through with the project. The other group then sabotaged his car, and he crashed in the mountains. Luckily," Fengfei smiled brightly, "we still had his brother."

"So that's why they looked so much alike…"

"Up to the phoenix tattooed on their backs! Not enough, though. So we did some work on his face. It still wasn't enough—as you proved. But it would suffice until the plans for the factory were completed."

"But the other group…" Lex fished for a name, an identity, but didn't get it.

"Wasn't happy with the proceedings. They've been trying to get you and your Sparkling Sources colleagues out of here with their little sabotaging actions." He tittered. "Like a Green Peace dinghy laying siege on a whaler. So desperate to try and regain their former innocence after their lethal attack on the Mayor. I don't think they realized he would actually die."

"They killed Wong," Lex said from between gritted teeth.

"Who? Oh, him. Ah. They didn't move him? That's a pity." He sighed. "Bodies complicate matters. It will be harder to keep the police in check when people are actually found murdered. But he shouldn't have fought. And he shouldn't have been so dreadfully impolite."

Something about the way he said it nudged at Lex's subconscious. And then it came to him so clearly he could hit himself for not seeing it earlier. The way he spoke, his razor. Chloe's exclamation, it all made sense. It DID make sense…even as that didn't make sense at all.

"_You_ killed him. You're one of them. You're not of the Phoenix cartel, you're part of the other group!"

Fu Yang smiled. "Not exactly. I am mainly part of the group that consists of me, and me alone."

"But you're Fengfei's friend…And you work on the drug. But you…It wasn't the Phoenix gang that took Chloe, was it? That was the other group. The temple people."

"Where did you hear that name?" The scientist's expression didn't change, but, his voice sharpened.

"I don't know," Lex said, truthfully. He couldn't remember for the moment. "I must've heard it somewhere. Maybe one of the gray men mentioned it."

"I highly doubt it."

"I can't remember, Fu Yang. Maybe if you stopped injecting chemicals into my arm my brains wouldn't deteriorate quite so much. Explain to me how you can be part of a protest group if you create the drugs for their rivals."

"They must get the means to subdue their agents somewhere, shouldn't they?"

"WHAT?" Lex raised his head in astonishment, then let it fall back as his neck muscles cramped up. "They're USING it?"

"Not them," said Fu Yang. He gazed on his watch again.

"They give it to other people?" No answer. The man was staring at his chest again. Even though that look disturbed him like hell, Lex ignored it for the moment. "They're fighting the Phoenix cartel by giving their drugs to other people? That….that's insane! And what does that make you? A double agent? Surely they can't be that stupid!? I mean, they must know you're producing the damn stuff! We're in…" and then he shut up, because letting the crazy fuck know he actually knew in whose house—or rather basement—they were, was not such a good idea. But still…what the fuck? With every answer he got, he got more confused, and he couldn't blame it on the Fire anymore. What on earth had he stepped into this time?

"If you have an infection," Fu Yang said, "does it heal quickly? Do you ever get infections?"

"No," said Lex, mind reeling. "Not that I know of."

"Let's get some of your wounds dirty, then." He shot Lex one of his disturbing little smiles. "After you've had your walkies. You know the drill. Oh, and if you need to take a leak, I strongly urge you do it now. I'm leaving in about ten minutes."

*

When it was about nine in the morning (according to her phone), a man opened the door, tossed a plastic bottle of water and a wrapped package into the room and barked something at her that might be a question or a curse.

Chloe thought it might be a question, because when she kept silent, he repeated the sentence. She still didn't understand it. Not one word, not after nine days of diligent study of the language. So she shrugged, said, "I don't understand what you're saying," and thought about jumping him.

No. Her mat was too far away from the door. Stupid. The moment the man was gone she got up and sat down next to the door, so she could trip him the next time he came in. Of course, he didn't.

The package contained a cylinder shape of sticky rice with meat inside, wrapped in foil. She'd seen it before; as far as she knew it was called Lumper. She ate and drank without worrying about poison; if they'd wanted to kill her, they'd have done it already. It wasn't exactly her first choice for breakfast, but the rice snack was tasty and salt, and the water tasted better than the finest champagne.

"Now if only I had a cup of coffee."

No coffee. Maybe they wanted to torture her anyway.

Now she was more properly awake, she reinvestigated her cell, and found that there was a hole in the ground in the corner, complete with toilet paper. The hole, about the size of her head, was covered by a wooden lid.

"Well, at least the room is provided with any conveniences a woman could wish for," she thought aloud. "I'm sure I'll find a hair dryer somewhere behind a stone."

Stones.

She ruined a few nails trying to find out if any of the stones were loose. Then she scraped her fingers raw on the door, that wouldn't move either. Finally, she made another round with her cell phone, but the reception hadn't magically improved either.

She sat down again, tired of doing useless things and unable to come up with anything constructive.

Ten minutes later, she was back at the door, kicking at it with all her might—and with her boots, that was quite impressive—trying to get someone to open the door again. But the sound boomed through the entire room and probably through the hall behind it, but no one came to see what she wanted. Again, she thought she heard an answering boom far away, but again, she couldn't be sure.

At last, she dropped back on her mat, tearful with anger.

"Bastards!" she screamed at the door. "Stupid Asian ASSHOLES! What do you WANT with me?" Abduct her, fine. Lock her up, fine. But why didn't they tell her what they wanted with her? Why didn't anyone come to gloat? How was she supposed to know what was going on if nobody told her? Should she be afraid? Or just bored? And how did they expect her to get through the day without anything to do? Even forced labor was preferable to this dreadful tedium.

For more than an hour she ranted and raved, and nothing happened, nothing at all. Finally, she fished her notebook from her purse, dug out a pen, and started writing with furious, jerky movements that sometimes punctured the paper.

I have been imprisoned. This holiday/work trip turns out to be rather disappointing. China sucks. I should have believed Lana and Clark when they told me it wasn't all that cool. It all started yesterday, when L was shot. No, before, I guess, when we went to the cave and the SS manager almost fell down a shaft.

Yes, that was it. Write everything down. Every fact, every tidbit. Maybe it would help her figure out what was going on. If it didn't, at least it would keep her occupied.

L saved him. Later Shan. told L that he thought L had staged the event, that he no longer believed that. After L was shot, Shan. confessed that he suspected sabotage.

Gradually, the worst of her anger disappeared as she concentrated on her memories of the past few days, and on ways to put them to paper. She may be locked up like a stray dog, but she was still a reporter, and it wouldn't do to produce sloppy writing. The facts should be straight and clear.

Feng Lao helped me get Lex back to his room. In retrospect he seemed to appear every time I needed him. Is that a coincidence, or careful orchestration? I'd like to think Feng is on our side, but I am forced to consider the possibility that he has actually been spying on us. His actions might have been a ploy to win our trust. However, even if he was not to be trusted, I cannot believe that he would willingly betray us.

She rested her back against the wall, blew on her cold fingers. She had mittens, but writing in those was impossible. Pulling up her knees, she placed the notebook against her thighs and busily wrote on. Lois would have called it a report. Lois knew shorthand, and used abbreviations like ETA and ASAP. Chloe did not like such words, but as she was writing faster and faster, she put them in as well. Everything to get a better picture of what was going on.

*

Chloe was just getting very tired of not being able to recollect the name of the famous female movie icon with the pretty legs from Germany in the 60s (she had taken a break from writing her memoirs and had started on a half-solved crossword puzzle), when she heard a grating noise and the door opened at a crack.

"Ah, lunch?" she asked with sarcastic cheer. A man in the doorway held up a square package and another bottle of water. She raised her hands in front of her and he carefully pitched them at her, waiting with the bottle until she had put aside the food package.

He said something in Chinese. She thought he might be asking whether she was alright. But since the Chinese didn't really use an upward stress to indicate a question, she wasn't sure.

_Note to self: study my Chinese phrases. And didn't I have my quick-dic with me? I should look up what 'Let me out you monkey-fucker' is, and tell him that next time._

"Nihao," she sneered. "I still don't understand you." More chattering in Mandarin. "You know, facts don't change just because you want them to. If that were the case, I wouldn't be here. I still don't speak your language."

The man had the audacity to look frustrated. Apparently he didn't speak a word of English. Tough shit for him; now he knew what it felt like.

She pushed herself up, and immediately he stepped back into the doorway, pulling the door closed.

"No, wait! At least tell me if Crystal's alright. Shanyuang Shu? Mao mei? About my age? Is she here?"

"Mao mei?" the man questioned, apparently hesitating over her accent. Then his eyes widened. "Měi nǚ. Spalklin Sosses."

"Yes!" Chloe cried. "Sparkling Sources! Crystal. Shanyuang Shu. Is she here?" She grabbed her purse, searching for the small dictionary she'd carried around ever since Clark gave it to her.

The man gave her one sharp nod. Then, he backed out of the room and the door slammed back in the lock. Chloe pounded her fist on the wood. "NO!" she cried. "Wait! Don't go away! Damn it, at least tell me if she's here!"

Tell me if Lex is here.

But of course he wasn't. Lex, she hoped, was safe at the hotel, and busy trying to figure out how to get her out.

TBC


	11. Chapter 10

You know, this chapter even creeps me out once in a while, and I bloody wrote it! Fu Yang just gets more psychotic whenever I put my fingers on the keyboard. I hadn't planned him to be this sick, he just turned out that way. Maybe because I had a really bad headache when I wrote part of it…So…

NC-17 for pure nastiness, and I mean it! If torture makes you sick, skip the bits with Lex. No, really.

Hm. Yesterday when I was sitting in my nightie with one cat (Julius) on my lap, the other cat (Iwan) jumped on top of the first one, and when it fled it pushed off with all its nails out. So now I have four inflamed six-inch scratch marks on my thigh. Is this poetic justice on me? LOL.

If you still dare…

Ten: Chloe rehearses Prison Break, Clark Touches Down, and Lex Sinks Deeper

The bad thing about using a quick-dictionary when you really didn't know the language, Chloe thought, was that you could perhaps form the question you wanted to ask, but that you couldn't do jack shit with the reply. The Chinese had the unpleasant habit of swallowing half of their words, and even when they spoke slowly and with careful pronunciation, she didn't know how to put the sounds into words. 'Xue', to her, sounded exactly the same as 'shu'. 'Yang' and 'yiang' was indistinguishable, and try as she might, she couldn't even detect the differences between different inflections.

She had first found this out while trying to talk to a lady walking her dog in the park several days ago, when the world was still fine and the language barrier was just a minor inconvenience. Today, she'd experienced it again.

What had the man said to her? According to her memory and to what she could make of it with the quick-dic it was 'I want to marry your cat', and she doubted that was the correct translation. She could now, after some copy-paste actions with different phrases, produce the questions 'Where am I?', 'What do you want with me?' and 'Where is Crystal Shanyuang?', but what she was going to do with any possible answer she had no idea.

The dictionary was intended to ask important questions like where to find a toilet, post office, police office or a phone, and where to buy post cards, stamps, condoms or food, not to ask why one had been kidnapped.

She sighed, blew her cold hands. Knowing the time was a comfort, but a curse as well. She'd been here for two days and a night, now, not counting the night she'd been brought in. She was fed and watered, she had a blanket, she wasn't maltreated…but she was bored, worried and angry, and she still didn't know why they'd locked her up, nor who 'they' were. The Phoenix Gang, most likely. She didn't know if kind mister Hua was still alive, either, or why James Wong had been murdered.

_Poor Wong…_She stared at the wall, trying to get the image of his bloodied corpse out of her mind. She'd seen her share of bodies, in various stages. She was more resilient to death than most girls her age. Still…Poor Wong!

The stones were dark and plain, the perfect kind of stone for a dungeon.

"Oh come on, Lex. Clark usually finds me within a day when some soft-brained nono decides I'm to be the next addition to his collection of soon-to-be-dead women." Nothing against Lex, but damn, she missed Clark right now. Lex was pretty goddamn amazing, but he couldn't look through walls nor push those walls aside with his bare hands. No, she'd much preferred to have him with her here, drawing up plans to break out. On her own, she didn't have a chance.

She'd tried to hide behind the door in order to sneak out the last time she was brought her dinner, but her captors might be accommodating, but they weren't stupid. No, she'd need a partner in crime to get out. A distraction.

But even someone to talk to would be wonderful. She was getting sick and tired of her own company.

This time, when her door opened, it was entirely unexpected, and she shot to her feet hands raised to defend herself if necessary…But no gray-clad person showed his face. Instead, packing a bundle of blankets and a folded mattress, was a slight young woman with short hair and a baffled expression on her face as she was pushed inside.

"Crystal!" Chloe cried. The door slammed closed again, but she didn't care.

"Chloe?" Crystal dropped her blankets, just in time to catch Chloe in her arms as she launched herself at her. "So it WAS you we heard!"

"I'm so glad you're alright!"

"I'm so glad YOU are! Hua told us you were with him when he went to find me…"

"Is he ok?"

"Hua? Yes, he's fine. What about…"

"And your assistant?" Chloe interrupted her. "Did they kill anyone else? Is everybody here?"

"Yes," said Crystal. She squeezed Chloe's neck, wavering between happiness to see her and displeasure at the situation. "Huarang and Hua are here, and so are Jing and SingSing. We were all put together in a cell. When I woke up SingSing and Jing were already there."

"Do you know what's going on?"

"No. Is my grandfather alright?"

"I think so," Chloe said. "He was at the hotel when Mister Hua and I went to look for you. Do you know anything about Lex?"

Crystal shook her head. "I don't think he's here." She picked up her pile of blankets and mattress again. "Let's sit down," she said. "And wrap ourselves up in blankets. I'm really cold."

The curled up against the wall. Chloe, as well, was glad with the extra blankets and the warmth of another body, even if it only touched her at the shoulders. She offered Crystal a sip from her bottle, but the other woman shook her head, saying she wasn't thirsty.

"I wonder…" she mused, putting her hands on her drawn-up knees and placing her chin on top of them. "Why'd they put our entire group—well, the five of us—together and you all by yourself?"

"And why did they transfer you to my room now?" Chloe finished her thoughts. "I was wondering that myself as well. Not that I'm not happy to have you here, of course." She nudged Crystal's shoulder. God, it was good to talk to someone again.

"Heh. Maybe to make you stop screaming. You caused quite a ruckus. We had children in the room next to us, and they started crying every time you started pounding on the door. The sound really carries in this place."

"That's their own fault," Chloe snorted. "That'll teach them not to lock up Americans without an explanation." _Children? They've locked up CHILDREN?_

Crystal smiled. Then her face fell, and she pushed a little closer. "I'm glad to see you're safe," she said. "I just wish…I wish I knew what was going on. Everything these people do makes me think that we could have been a lot worse off…but…Is it true that Wong is dead?"

Chloe stiffened. Crystal was right. Even if her kidnappers did treat her with a certain kindness, it didn't change the fact that one of them had killed Wong.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, he's dead. And we have to find out what's happening. Why don't you tell me what you know, and I'll tell you what I've found out."

The other woman nodded. "I doubt you know more than me, though. Right. Huarang, Wong and I drove to the lab. I had the tranquilizer dart Lex had given me with me, and I managed to scrape off a bit of the poison off it. It's floral," she added. "I never managed to find out exactly what substances it was made from, but it was definitely floral."

"I'll never look at a rose the same way," Chloe muttered. Wasn't the Phoenix Fire also prepared from flowers?

Crystal nodded sourly. "Yes, quite. Anyway, I called my grandfather. I was waiting for my solution to cool, and then all hell broke loose." She frowned. "Fu Yang was there…"

"He was there when we came searching for you, too!"

"Grandfather was right to distrust him!" Crystal spat. "It was him who shot me. I assume it was the same kind of substance he shot Lex with. He…"

"Did Fu Yang have a tattoo?" Chloe wondered.

"A tattoo? What do you mean?"

"On his arm. Did we ever see his arms bared? These kids I talked with," she clarified, "they told me that everyone who's a member of the Phoenix Gang gets a tattoo."

"I don't know. I don't think I've ever seen his arms. Seems like a rather silly identification mark, though. Especially in winter."

"Yess…" Chloe mused. She thought of her Tireless Threesome. They'd worn short sleeves despite the cold. She could imagine that other gang members would swagger around showing their tattoos as well. Childish. Silly. Yes. "These people don't behave like a youth gang," she said slowly. "With their gray clothes and their razorblades. And I somehow also doubt these people recruit teenaged boys by luring them away from their mother's aprons with drugs and cool imagery."

"No," Crystal agreed. "These guys seem serious. I don't think there are very many of them, though." She sighed. "Unless this place is so big we never hear them talk."

This place…Where was it? Chloe yawned.

"Did they tell you why they were putting you in my cell?"

"No," said Crystal. "One of them just came to our cell, opened the door, pointed at me and took me with him, here. But I assume it's because they want to speak to you, and need someone to translate. Or it is because they want you to be silent. Or maybe to let me see you were still alive. I don't know. When I thought I heard your voice," her mouth quirked, "your scream, you might say, I asked them whether it was you. Maybe they got tired of my questions and decided it would shut both of us up if they put us together."

"Maybe," said Chloe. She wondered at the questions the Gray Men might have for her. She yawned again. Without coffee, it seemed she was continually sleepy. Or maybe it was the time; it was almost twelve.

Crystal yawned as well. "I guess we'll find out," she said despondently.

"Yes," said Chloe. "I guess we will."

*

Either Fu Yang had improved his mixture, or maybe Lex's body had gotten used to Phoenix Fire. Whatever it was, while the backlash of his high made his heart rock in his chest like Axl Rose on stage in his heydays, it didn't cause the crippling agony he'd experienced before.

Instead, Lex lay on his gurney with his back muscles protesting they weren't used to this position, hunger pangs making his stomach cramp, and several cuts on his chest burning with whatever it was Fu Yang had sprinkled into them before leaving. Lex didn't know what had been in the small box the insane scientist had pulled out of a pocket, but whatever it was, it had inflamed his wounds beyond expectation. Patches of his skin felt hot and tight, and those wounds throbbed painfully with his rada-beat pulse.

The respite from heart attacks, or whatever it had been, gave him the chance to scream for help, which he did with great fervor. Nothing happened whatsoever. After an hour or so his voice was gone, his throat was sore, and his mood had plummeted even more.

He threw himself around for a bit, trying to get one of his hands free. But no matter how hard he pulled and wedged, all he accomplished was raw skin and a strained wrist. By now he didn't know what was worse: being tied up, drugged and sedated, or the fact that the sedation didn't last long enough for him to stay under until his torturer skipped down the stairs with another dose of Phoenix Fire and a set of knives. His post-high mind was a strange and disorderly thing which kept presenting him with worst-case scenarios. After a life filled with abductions, shoot-ups, poisonings, declarations of madness and other aggressive actions against his own person, his worst-case scenarios were pretty disturbing indeed. Not exactly the kind of mental fare one wished to chew over while spread out on a slab like a chicken awaiting the slaughter.

He was almost glad to see Fu Yang appear again. At least his mind had something else to do than dwell on possibilities when Fu yang was present. And also, although that was a thought Lex pushed away as soon as it surfaced, it meant that he wouldn't hurt for a while. He did not doubt for one second that the Phoenix Fire was fucking up his health, and that he should stop taking it as soon as he had the chance. But that didn't take away the fact that as long as he was high, he wasn't scared, he didn't hurt, and he still thought he might get out of this fucked up position with some of his sanity intact.

"Good evening," said Fu Yang cheerfully. He'd brought two huge bags with him, which clanked when he put them on the ground. "How are we doing today?"

Seeing Fu Yang also reminded Lex that loathing was a very powerful emotion, even stronger than fear. His fatalism drowned in the overwhelming desire to rip and rend, tear and shred, and instead of his usual 'Wonderful,' he only produced a low growl.

"You look good," the other man said, imperturbable as always. "A bit peaky, but very well considering the circumstances. I don't know how you manage, but you always seem to look fresh and well-groomed." He began unpacking his bags: Erlenmeyers, burners, vials, scalpels. He put all of them on the steel table before turning to Lex. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Like a baby," Lex snarled.

Fu Yang considered his color. "I wish I knew whether you are speaking the truth or not," he sighed. "That's one of the cons of your healing ability, I guess. I can't possibly check whether you're lying about sleeping or not. How long does this sedative work, anyway? I adjusted it to fit your metabolism. It should keep you asleep longer than the other stuff."

"I really wouldn't know," Lex said acidly. "Since I don't have the means to check my watch when I wake up." It would be bliss to be unconscious from the moment Fu Yang left till the moment he came back again, if only because it would save him hours and hours of boredom and terror. However, it would also bring his chances of escape back to zero. All of a sudden, Lex found himself unwilling to give up the few hours he had to himself.

Fu Yang clacked his tongue. "You do have a point. Sorry. Let's see, how are your cuts doing? Oh my, that worked better than I had expected!" He pressed one finger against the edge of one of the inflamed gashes on his belly, and Lex gasped before he could clench his teeth together and endure in silence.

"So with the right amount of filth, your body can be persuaded to develop an infection," Fu Yang mused. He trailed his fingers along Lex's stomach and chest, measuring the swelling of the weals. "Hmm." His eyes went up, to Lex's face; his fingers followed and touched his jaw. "Well that's…that's odd. I hadn't even noticed." He laughed. "That explains."

"What?" snarled Lex.

Fu Yang ran his fingers from the inside of Lex's upper arm into his armpit, making Lex jump in reaction. It tickled horribly.

"Stop that!" he snapped.

"You really are completely hairless," Fu Yang murmured. "It's no more than down. Less. At first I thought you must have shaved, or waxed, but it's simply not there at all." He felt across his chest, around his nipples, just below his navel; he even unbuttoned Lex's jeans and pushed them down, checking for pubic hair.

Lex kept himself completely still, clenching his jaws together to keep from making a sound. He had never, ever felt this exposed and humiliated before in his entire life. At the same time, he concluded that any form of hate he had felt before was NOTHING compared to what was now boiling in his guts.

"You're bare like some pre-teen child," Fu Yang mused aloud. "There's nothing but the kind of hair I have on the backs of my hands." He did up the buttons of Lex's jeans. "Could it be that what stripped you of hair is connected to your boosted metabolism? I think it must be." He smiled, lightly fingered one of the scars on Lex's belly that made up his name. He had cut those anew, last night, and infected them too. They stood up like red neon marks on his white skin. "What caused it?"

"Chemical accident," Lex said. No way he wanted this lunatic alerted to the existence of Kryptonite.

"Really? Do you remember what kind of chemicals?"

"I was a child," Lex said. "So, no. A plant exploded. It was never rebuilt."

"What kind of plant? And where?"

Lex searched his inner databanks. "Missouri," he said. "They did something with vegetable cloning." _Vegetable deluxe: Lex Luthor. __Bald like a tomato, grows like cabbage. Bleeds like a beet. Tastes lovely._ He felt sick.

"I must find out what kind of factory that was…" Subconsciously, he tapped his fingers on the hot, swollen flesh around the characters of his name.

Lex squirmed. "Your little experiment won't succeed if I'm burning up with fever," he said. He tried to use his contemptuous drawl but he was too furious to maintain it. "It'll screw with the results."

"Addicts are not uncommon to be somewhat weakened by infections," Fu Yang replied easily. "It won't interfere with the Fire. Besides, I wasn't planning on letting it go quite that far." Fu Yang smiled. "It's only a controlled little infection, simply something to satisfy my curiosity. I wouldn't endanger my own experiment. And it already seems to be diminishing. Extraordinary. Just…marvelous. Do you know what I put in there?"

"No. I don't want to know either."

"Sheep. Ground sheep bones and offal from a freshly slaughtered sheep—well, not that fresh, but unboiled. Works like a dream." He prodded another of the red, seeping gashes, making Lex hiss through gritted teeth. "Did you know that's what they put in those scatter bombs? Chopped-up sheep bones, with bits of meat attached. And do you know why?"

"Yes," Lex growled. "Because of the infection it would cause when it entered someone's body."

"Partly true. But the true ingenuity of that kind of bombs is that for some reason, sheep bones don't show on x-rays. A soldier might be festering to death around a splinter the size of his thumb, but they'd never find it before it was too late."

To Lex's immense relief he left his wounds alone, picked up a syringe instead and took his daily sample of blood from his elbow. "I saw it happen to my best friend," Fu Yang continued conversationally. Lex pricked up his ears. "One of our squad stepped on one we'd missed somehow. Two man down, perforated with sheep, one dead because he was hit in the eye, and everyone in a complete panic. If my friend hadn't thrown himself in front of me, I'd have been hit too." He detached the vial and, as always, put it in his pocket for later analysis. Lex searched his face, hoping for some kind of emotion, like grief, or gratefulness, or anything…but all he saw was that usual little smile, not thankful or bitter but amused and somewhat mocking, as if the whole story was someone else's memory.

Lex was very much worried that the memory was Fu Yang's, alright. _Squad. Squad. Army? Somehow, I doubt it. He doesn't use army terms. Sounds more like something like a guerrilla group…But which one? And when? And where? Here? Was there ever a war in Shueng? _

"He lost his leg and part of his arm," the other man continued casually. "He was rotting away where we were standing, and not even the hospital could find what was causing it. If I hadn't gone in with my scalpel and FELT for that splinter with my bare fingers, he'd probably have last a lot more than a few limbs."

"How fortunate for your friend," Lex drawled, but his sneer lacked venom. Internally, he was quaking. How far was this psychopath willing to go with his 'little experiments'? When would he tire of just cutting Lex open and start taking things OUT? Or, maybe worse, putting things IN?

God, I need to get out! I need to get away from him! I need to slit his throat before he releases both the Fire and himself onto humanity.

_I need him dead before he kills me, too! _

"Yes. Very fortunate indeed."

Lex had always prided himself on his level headedness, his calm and his analytic abilities because they enabled him to reason his fears away. Not now. He was so terrified he STANK of it. Reason only scared him more. Reason told him he was even more fucked than he'd feared before. Fu Yang's beatific smile made his teeth rattle.

"Are you cold?" the scientist asked, concerned. "Perhaps you're a bit feverish after all. Wait, I'll clean this up for you. I've had my answers, and I wouldn't want you to fall ill." He picked up his scalpel and began to scrape the powder and puss out of the wounds.

_You know what? Fuck it_, Lex's pride thought, rolled over and played dead. He gave up and screamed.

*

"What if we hit him over the head the next time he brings us food?" Chloe said. "He always leaves the door open behind him."

They had fallen asleep unbidden, and when breakfast was thrown into the room, they'd only woken up when the door fell closed again.

"With what?" asked Crystal. They looked around the spare room: two mats on the floor, a hole in the floor in the right corner covered with a wooden cover that was attached to the ground, toilet paper, a few blankets. There was nothing suitable for the bashing in of skulls.

"My shoes," Crystal answered her own question. She gazed down on her flat pumps. "Your shoes," she corrected herself, smiling tightly at the steel-toed Doctor Martens.

Chloe nodded. She couldn't kick quite high enough to make sure someone was definitely out, but if she took the shoe off and used it as a hammer, she'd probably hit someone unconscious. "Good idea."

"I'll distract him," Crystal continued. "I can pretend I'm sick, or flash him." Her teeth showed briefly as she grinned despite the situation.

Chloe smiled back, then grew serious again. "We only have to be prepared. As far as I've been able to tell he doesn't come at specific times." She glanced at the door, then picked up her mat, folded it and sat down next to the door. She began to pick at the laces of her boots.

Crystal shot her an appreciative look. She put her own mat against the wall straight across from the door, but hunkered down next to Chloe for the time being. She'd have enough time to dart across the room at the first sound of the bar being removed. The room wasn't that large.

"You've seen the hallway," Chloe said. "Do you have any idea where we are? And how deep?"

"I don't know." She rubbed a finger over the stones that made up the floor. "Pretty deep, I'd say. I didn't see any windows in the hallway either, not even up high. I'd almost say we're in a natural cave, but this," she tapped the floor, "isn't natural. It's man-made. And I saw stairs at the end of the hallway."

"Could we..." Chloe hesitated. There was no evidence for her theory whatsoever, but from the moment she had opened her eyes in this underground cell, the notion had presented itself to her. "Could we be in the temple?"

"The one in the mountains?" Crystal immediately picked up her thoughts. "Could be. This is the same kind of stone as the one in the Sand Caves. But it would mean that there is a lot more to the temple than just the surface."

"No," Chloe said, "I mean the ruins. Not the new one. I think we're in the ruined temple, or beneath it."

"What makes you think so?"

She shrugged. "I don't know." There had been something, a flash of something, perhaps a statue, or a relief she'd seen when they dragged her in. She had no clue how long she'd been out after they shot that dart into her chest, but she did remember that right after it had been shot in, someone had jumped at her to pluck it out again.

Probably dangerous to inject the poison that close to the heart. Maybe as a result she'd been gone almost immediately, but had resurfaced prematurely and seen things that made her think they were now in a temple.

Of course, they might also be in the catacombs of one of those little temples in the village. That would make more sense.

She sighed. "It would be cool to imagine that there's an entire system of hallways and caves below the ruins, but no way to get into them from above. Forget it. It doesn't matter anyway."

"Only if we managed to escape this room," Crystal said. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocked back and forth on her heels. "I hope my grandfather's alright. And Huarang. He tried to fight them, and they cut him. They bandaged him, and he was doing fine yesterday, but he should really go to the hospital." Her face twisted. "And poor James...That horrible Fu Yang! That animal! How could he do it?

"It was Fu Yang who killed Wong?" Chloe asked, shocked. She and Crystal had exchanged stories when she'd been pushed into Chloe's cell along with a few blankets, but while the woman had told her Fu Yang had been part of the group—something Chloe had found out not half an hour after Crystal had—she hadn't mentioned him killing James Wong.

Crystal nodded. "He just sliced him up, just like that. And he was such a nice man, James. He tried so hard to protect me..." She looked away. "He was still alive when I went down. I'd hoped he'd be here…like Huarang. But Hua told me he was dead. I still can't believe it."

"I wonder why Fu Yang hasn't shown up here, yet." Chloe didn't want to think about Wong's mutilated body. "Since he must be the ringleader, or at least someone important. You'd think he'd come by to say something nasty."

Crystal bared her teeth. "If he ever shows his face, I'll kill him," she said. "Even if it is the last thing I'll ever do, I swear I'll kill him. I'll make him EAT your shoes!"

Chloe nodded gravely. And then she burst into laughter, which she smothered with her hands before it could become the hysterical howling it wanted to be.

They waited.

*

After he had cut the infected parts away, scooped out all the puss and the remaining bits of sheep, Fu Yang had sponged Lex down with water and disinfectant, that is to say his chest, stomach, and, after a cluck at his mangled wrists, his hands and most of his arms as well. The one positive thing about the wash was that Lex now no longer reeked of pain and fear sweat, but now smelled like a recently cleaned hospital bathroom. For the rest, Lex hadn't been able to find anything positive at all about the situation.

The sharp odor of the stuff made his empty stomach flip and churn.

Having any open wound doused in iodine stung like mad, and his entire front was one mass of cuts and half healed gashes. He'd found himself halfway a sobbing "Why are you doing this? What do you want with me?" plea before he regained his senses and his pride, and while his cheeks were still wet with tears he was now once again able to meet Fu Yang's cheerful chatter with stony silence.

"You know why I'm doing this," Fu Yang was saying. He was back behind his Bunsen burner and his glass vials. A fresh dose of Phoenix Fire lay on the tray with scalpels. "I'm trying to find out why my concoction causes heart problems, and I must say, you've helped me a lot!"

Lex said nothing, kept on hoping that at one point some benevolent godhood would grant him the power to flay the other man with his eyes. _Dear Shiva. Help me HURT this person._

"I don't even wish to hurt you, although you might not believe that," Fu Yang went on. He put a few drops of some substance in the largest vial, and smiled when it changed color. "I'd sedate you more often, if I thought it wouldn't interfere with my test."

"You cutting me open is still part of your test?" Lex rasped.

"Cutting you open is to satisfy my own personal curiosity. You're fascinating. I can't help it."

"You're sick."

"Perhaps." He shrugged.

"And when you've satisfied your curiosity? Then what are you going to do with me?"

"For the moment, I'm still full of questions."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I honestly don't know yet." He put the fire beneath his vial lower, picked up the needle and injected the Phoenix Fire. "But I assure you, you'll be the first to find out."

*

There was something disconcerting about flying that had nothing to do with being miles above the ground. Clark did not know why, but flying high in the sky made him feel edgy and restless. _Kal-El flies. Kal-El also kills humans, because he sees them as inferior beings. _Everything that reminded him of Kal-El scared him.

Thankfully, Kal-El was safely tucked away, unfortunately right along with all those interesting powers. If he'd been able to fly, Clark wouldn't have wasted four days arranging things after Lex's S.O.S. He could only hope that both Lex and Chloe were still alive.

Four days, including one traveling.

To get into China with a small military unit, Lionel Luthor had told him, it was an astoundingly short time. To Clark, it seemed like an age.

Luthor. The man was made of ice. He had listened to the piece of tape Clark had give him, only his heartbeat betraying his feelings when Lex stopped talking. His face remained the same, expression unreadable, a little pensive.

"I see," he had said. And then, "you came to the right person, Clark."

"Can you get us to Shueng?"

"Yes. Do you know whether General Lane is in the country?"

"No." Clark had thought fast. "But I can find out. Lois should know."

"Ah," Lionel had said with a creepy little smile. "Yes. Lane's…multi-talented…daughter."

"If I include her," Clark had said, "I can't leave her out. She'll want to come with us." He didn't relish the thought of Lois tagging along. She was one tough cookie, but he didn't want her risking herself. And neither did he want her present when he was forced to use his superhuman powers. But he knew as certain as he knew that Sam Lane would agree to do whatever he could to help, Lois would want to come too. And that he'd have to tie her up to stop her.

"I doubt the General will appreciate having two of his kin in danger." Lionel had predicted dryly.

"I doubt the General's appreciation will matter one fig to Lois," he'd retorted. "If he forbade her to come she'd hide out with the luggage."

"Yes…The Lane family shares several prominent character traits," Lionel had drawled meaningfully. "Stubbornness and foolishness are but two of them. But no one can say they lack blind courage." He had tapped the tape. "I need to keep this. Do you have a copy for Lane?"

"Yes. Does this mean you'll come with us?" He hadn't known if the thought frightened him or reassured him.

Lionel had chuckled. "My dear boy. If I abandoned my business every time Lex gets into trouble, I'd have been bankrupt before my son turned twenty." He reached for his phone, started to browse through his address book. "I have other things to do. Although I do happen to be in China next week. For business." Again that nasty little smile—although why he bothered, Clark didn't know. Beneath Lionel's frozen countenance, his pulse revealed a growing panic.

"He might be dying," he said, referring to Lex only since he knew Lionel had no love lost for Chloe.

Lionel nodded. "Yes. Or he might already have talked himself out of it. He's a smart man, if he wants to be. My presence would neither improve Lane's effectiveness nor speed up the search. No, if necessary, I will come to Shueng after concluding my business in Shanghai. In the meantime, I will send McCarthy with you. A Chinese interpreter," he added. "Unless either you or the charming Miss Lane know to speak Chinese?"

Clark hadn't even thought about that. "No," he said. "But the army…"

"The smaller the demand on the army, the greater the chance they will be able to leave within 48 hours."

"48 hours?! But they might be killed…We need to get to them NOW!"

"It isn't that simple. However, the faster we work, the faster you will be able to leave. Now," He held up one finger. "I need to receive the following information as soon as possible. One, I need to know if General Lane agrees to travel to China, and if he will be able to arrange it by himself or whether I need to…persuade…some people at the top. Two," a second stick-like finger shot up, "I need to know who will come with him. I need to have copies of their passports tonight. For visas. And I need to know whether he'll charter an army plane, or has to fly one of mine."

He used his stretched fingers to pluck a business card from his chest pocket, scribbled a phone number on it and handed it to Clark. "He knows how to reach me, but if he calls this number he'll get me directly. You should use it, too, the moment you find anything out." He sat back in his chair. "I trust you will be able to gather all this information and bring it back to me before midnight?"

There was far too much knowledge in that question. _How much of what Lex knows about me, does Lionel know as well? _Clark wondered, discomfited. _Is he just guessing, or does he really know?_

"Yes," he said. "I think so."

"Good," said Lionel, and picked up his phone. "For the passports, use the fax number on my card. Good evening."

And here they were now, three days and fifteen hours later. In one of Lionel's private jets; Lois, her nose pressed against the window, disheveled with traveling; her father, stern-looking and chewing on a cigar stub, the interpreter McCarthy, who hadn't looked up from his book since they'd left Hong Kong after a pit stop, and five of the General's hand-picked soldiers.

You could say what you want about the Luthors, but they did know how to tackle problems and achieve the impossible. Even Sam Lane had looked slightly baffled when he had been presented with a visa not one hour after the Chinese consulate opened the night after Clark had visited him at his base.

("Goddamn it, Son, how the hell did you do that? This place is off-limits to civilians!"

"Sorry, sir. I guess they just didn't see me. But Sir, please listen to me! Chloe's been kidnapped, and I need your help.")

In the end, what had taken the most time was getting permission to land at the various airports to restock on fuel. This had to be arranged before they took off because, as Lionel put it, it would be rather unpleasant to fly all the way to Hong Kong and then be sent back again because the necessary papers hadn't been signed.

Clark hadn't known it could be so hard to get somewhere. More than once he'd been on the point of simply abandoning the plane and simply running the rest of the way. However, him still being unable to cross water on foot, and also quite incapable of asking for directions, he'd done his best to keep calm and not throw tantrums while Lionel pulled his strings and made people dance like puppets.

Lois wasn't helping. She'd never really bothered with any form of self-control. So she was alternatively furious, impatient, not-understanding, bored, exasperated and worried out of her mind. "I knew it," she kept saying. "I KNEW he'd get her into trouble."

No matter how many times Clark explained to her that Chloe excelled at getting herself into trouble, and that Lex was in trouble as well, Lois refused to listen to him. She blamed Lex, and was convinced he was ultimately responsible for whatever had happened. After a while, Clark stopped arguing with her. Whether she was right or not, it didn't matter anyway. What mattered was getting there, and getting there in time to get the both of them out safely.

He woke up from a restless half-sleep from the voice over the intercom.

"We're going to land now. Please fasten your seatbelts. There's a stiff breeze and some snow, so the plane might shake a little. Please remain seated until we have landed. Thank you."

Clark buckled up.

"Not quite the same as a 747, is it?" Lois said with a nervous laugh. She ignored her father's stern glance. As Lionel had predicted, the General had not been amused when his daughter had flatly refused to stay behind if Clark was allowed to come, and as Clark had predicted, Lois hadn't cared at all.

"I've got a visa," she'd said, stubbornly looking her dad in the eye while he tried to bar her the way to the small plane's boarding stairs. "Lionel arranged one for me too."

"Lionel has no business doing any such thing," Lane had barked. "And even if he did, I'm still here to tell you to move your ass off my base." (the plane had left from the army base.)

"My luggage's already on board."

"I can remove it."

"You'll waste time."

"No, Lois, YOU are wasting time. We are to take off in five minutes and if you…"

"Then let me come aboard. I mean, really, Dad? Why Clark, and not me? He doesn't even have any military training! I mean, I know I'm not an official soldier but I'm at least as good as any private!"

From the security of the plane, General Lane's Chosen, Mister McCarthy and Clark watched with interest how the General failed to make any impression on his daughter. They had all understood about ten seconds into the verbal battle that this time, parental authority would not work, General or not. Lois entered the plane two minutes before take-off, followed by her red-faced father. She kept on a safe distance for the rest of the journey, but a small triumphant smile made her mouth curl once in a while.

Even though he wasn't happy to have her jump into danger, Clark couldn't help returning that smile whenever she directed it at him.

The plane touched down. A small group of men huddled under umbrellas, futilely trying to find a respite from the wind near the two cars in which they had apparently arrived.

General Lane gestured at one of his men. "Get the jeep out. I'm not riding in one of those things. Mc—I'm sorry, Mister McCarthy. I'd appreciate it if you'd go first."

McCarthy nodded. He was a man of medium height, with a plain, unremarkable face, glasses and a gray suit. The kind of man you could meet seven times and still introduced yourself to, because his face simply didn't register. Clark wondered what made him valuable to Lionel. Somehow, he was convinced that his knowledge of the Chinese language was only one of McCarthy's qualities.

As it was, they all filed out of the plane, and McCarthy introduced the Americans to the Chinese reception party. It consisted of several younger men, three hulking body guards, and an old man with a haggard look about him.

"Welcome," the old man conveyed through McCarthy. "I am so glad the American government DID find the means to come to our aid." He shook the General's hand. "I am Shanyuang Yu. Please, follow me. We have had rooms prepared for you."

*

The last adjustment to the Fire had been less than successful, Lex observed. It lasted longer; the basement breathed around him and he could feel the light drop down on his face like dry rain, and he'd been out for hours because of the anesthetic. But his stomach hurt, and it couldn't only be hunger because Fu Yang had fed him an apple and half a gallon of lemon tea, and his blood seemed to burn in his veins.

At least his chest didn't hurt. He could still feel the signature on his belly, but more because he could feel the steam of his blood blow through the gashes than because of any real pain.

_It will take ages before that heals, _he thought, twisting his wrists in the restraints. It went easier than before, so he was probably bleeding again. Who cares, he didn't feel it, and if it could get him loose…_Ages. I might have to cut those characters up again, or you'll see the scars before they disappear. Or maybe I'll need surgery. Get rid of that piece of skin entirely. It wouldn't be hard. Don't care about the other scars, but his name has to go. I won't be anyone's picture. I'll be a piece of art, but damn it, not his. I won't be someone's property. I won't. I just want to get out. Take an eraser, rub out his characters._

He looked down, saw the steam coming off those cuts.

_Lex._

Someone whispered something. His name.

_Lexx…_

He looked up, squinted through the steam.

_Lexxxxxxx…_

It came from the darkest corner of the basement, near the Dixie—of course it did. Eerie whispers seldom emerged from open, light, happy places. Something was there. He could feel it, even if he couldn't see it; it was breathing quivering air, and its intelligence revealed its presence even if its body didn't.

"Who's there?" He blinked, desperately trying to focus. The shadows moved like seaweed in the push and pull of the light. The thing in the shadow regarded him with eyes that showed as two brilliant red dots. It did not speak, but stepped forward, and it was a boy. A fifteen-year-old boy. As he moved closer and the light played over his features, they seemed to take shape, to fold into a face he knew. Lex literally gushed relief when he realized it was Clark.

"Clark?"

The boy stepped closer, until he was standing less than two foot away. He had one hand in his jeans pocket, and was wearing the red Crows jacket flung casually over his shoulder, hooked over one finger.

"Yeah, it's me." Up close, the red light was gone, although a hint of it remained, reflecting like fire from the underside of his long, half-lowered lashes.

"Thank god you're here! How did you get…never mind." Lex pulled at his bonds. "Get me off of this thing!"

"Sure," said Clark. "In a bit."

Lex stilled. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what. His heart was beginning to act like a gong again, resonating through his entire body. Perhaps he hadn't heard correctly. "W-what?" Confusion made him stutter.

Clark smiled. And suddenly he was older, not a boy but a man, and something about him was so threatening Lex shrank back against the surface of his gurney. "I will set you free. Of course I'll set you free; I'm always the one to pulls you out of nasty situations like this one." He looked around, that strange smile still twisting his mouth. "You really did it this time, Lex. Looks familiar, doesn't it?"

"What…what do you mean?"

He gazed back at Lex, and the next moment he was leaning over him, so close their noses almost touched. "Nothing. Just a bit of irony. You wouldn't understand it—or maybe you would. I always got the feeling you could appreciate irony."

"Clark…" Lex stared up in the well-known, handsome face, searching frantically for the old naiveté, but all he saw was cruel mockery.

"I like to see you this way," Clark whispered. He placed either hand on Lex's wrists, caressed the skin just below the leather straps, then stroked down until both hands covered the center of Lex's chest. "Completely helpless, completely docile. You make such a beautiful victim."

"No." said Lex. He writhed under the slight pressure of Clark's hands. "Stop it."

"Stop it?" His eyebrows arched in surprise. "But you _want_ me to continue."

"No."

"You told me so."

"No!"

"Oh come on, Lex." The pressure on his chest intensified, and real fear made his heart beat even louder. "You know you like it. After all, you'll get all my secrets in return. Just a little pain, a little subjection…"

"NO! Stop it! Get off me!"

"…and I'm all yours to probe and dissect." He grinned, showing two perfect rows of sharp, white teeth. All of a sudden his hands cupped Lex's face, although the now crushing pressure on Lex's sternum hadn't lessened, locking his head in place. "Provided you survive the experience, of course."

His mouth closed over Lex's, not to kiss but to smother, and Lex found himself suffocating in the grip of his own delusion—

—It was a delusion, an illusion, a hallucination, it had to be, it couldn't be real, it wasn't real, it was…but he couldn't move couldn't flee couldn't even defend himself…

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!" he howled

And all of a sudden he was alone again.

Clark was gone.

Wildly, he whipped his head around, taking in the entire basement, peering deep into the darkest corners…but no.

Nothing.

He was all alone in the throbbing shadows with his heart beating against his ribcage, his mouth so dry his tongue stuck to his palate.

_Oh, Christ, _he thought, swallowing the whimper that rose in his throat. _Where the hell did that come from?_

Phoenix Fire. Repressed memories. Hidden feelings. Untreated, pushed-away trauma. Phoenix Fire. His heart was going to burst. Would Clark really leave him? If he found Lex, would he really wait setting him free?

No. No.

Was he even coming at all? His protective feelings for Chloe should be enough to bring him here, but would he even bother looking for Lex?

Would he? There was so much between the two of them—so much hate and enmity, but so much trust as well…But was it justified? How long had he been here, now, in this basement? Two days? Three? A week? He no longer had any idea of time. What if Clark had been here and found Chloe…and gone back again?

What if no one was coming at all?

He sucked in a lungful of air and screamed, but halfway his heartbeat cut off his airflow and all the sound he managed to make was the choked whimper he'd swallowed earlier. He felt as if he was standing too close to one of those enormous bass speakers at a concert; his bones vibrated with the force of his pulse.

And right in the middle of that heart quake, the lights went on and Fu Yang appeared next to him like magic.

"O dear," he murmured, taking out his stethoscope and putting it to Lex's chest. "That doesn't sound so good."

"Fucking hell it doesn't!" Lex gasped frantically.

"My apologies. I didn't realize this happened so long after your high." He opened a drawer in the steel table and took out a flat box. "Then again, if you'd just told me, I could have saved you the discomfort. Pride comes before a fall, Mister Ruthor." He was preparing yet another injection. The man was like a porcupine, all sharp points and quills. "Why can't you accept that I don't WANT you to die? You're ruining yourself."

"Ruining myself is a…small price if I can ruin your…experiment as well!" Lex spat.

"Yes, well, we can't have that, can we?" He swabbed Lex's elbow.

"What is that?"

"Something to calm you down. After it's taken effect, I'll give you something to sleep."

"No."

"I'm afraid I must," Fu Yang said gently, as gently as he handled the needle. "Someone heard you. It's most inconvenient. You really mustn't scream when there are people above."

Lex stilled. "People?" _Clark?_

"Friends of the Mayor's," Fu Yang dashed in his hopes. "they tend to drift all over the premises. But don't worry, I won't torment you with hopes of freedom. Now, isn't that better?"

The relentless assault of his blood had, indeed, weakened. His heart still pounded, but it didn't really hurt anymore. He nodded.

"Good. Still, no Fire for you tomorrow. You need a break." He grinned. "I wonder how your body will react to its absence—see, that is why you make such a wonderful specimen. No matter what I do, your body does something interesting in return."

Lex wanted to throttle him. He wanted to tear him finger by finger, toe by toe; wanted to pop out his eyes with a spoon. He wanted one minute, only ONE, with that razor and cut the sonovabitch to unrecognizable bloody ribbons. He wanted to slice off his balls and put them in place of his eyes, he wanted to…

"You hate me, don't you?" Fu Yang chuckled.

No matter how hard he tried to stop it, Lex began to tremble. He literally shook with hatred. He'd known it could make him stronger, but he hadn't known hate could make him nauseous. His stomach heaved with waves of revulsion, as if the man's presence was enough to make him vomit.

"You will pay for this," he whispered. "I swear that you will. I'll make you pay for every second you're putting me through."

"Perhaps," said Fu yang, unimpressed. "But for now, you're going to sleep." He took his tranquilizer gun from his belt, took out one of the darts and stuck it into Lex's neck. "Till tonight. And when you wake up, don't scream."

TBC


	12. Chapter 11 one

Hi Dahlia! Thanks for your review! Yes, I don't know why I am not flooded with praise by the hundreds that read my story melts in tears but hey, at least I have kind people like you who feed the starving author…

Ok, enough trolling  Thanks for the review, though, I appreciate it. Maybe you could make yourself chew through my slash because it's not really about sex or mushy love, but because Clark's an alien and Lex's reasons to let him do what he did are all based on rather selfish sentiments? After all, it was rape, but he did consent to it, and it wasn't intended to be rape, so…Ah well. This is still mainly a Het story, so I'm glad you could make it through!

Of course Jen, and Groupie, many thanks as well 

Heyhey.

I'm sorry, I couldn't make it this weekend. We celebrated Sinterklaas and social business got in the way of writing. Then again, the next chapter will be very soon, because most of it is already finished. I could choose between making you wait another three or four days and then posting a monster chapter, or posting it in two, so I decided to do it this way.

Cheers!

Eleven: Chloe Breaks Out and Lois Rescues the Wrong Damsel (one)

Lex guessed he should be grateful the temple of his body was no longer defiled by the destructive substance it had been injected with on a daily basis. Only, he'd never been very attentive to his temple, and it did not much enjoy being depraved of the rush it had gotten used to.

When he woke up he was, for the first time since he'd opened his eyes in the basement, feeling cold. The scars on his chest and belly pulled tight as his skin pebbled with goose bumps, and tiny shivers made his teeth chatter as they ran through him. At first they were just that, shivers, but as time progressed—admittedly, he had no idea how much of it progressed, or how much of it had passed since Fu Yang had told him to keep quiet—they grew to full body-length tremors, and even later they made him shake on his slab like a piece of bacon in the frying pan.

Bacon…

Worse than the quivering was his stomach. He was ravenous and nauseous at the same time, and every once in a while his stomach cramped as if protesting its current treatment. When he closed his eyes he saw slices of toast and marmalade perform a line-dancing act against the back of his eyelids, but while those dreams filled his dry mouth with saliva, it made his guts coil into a painful ball.

Most of the cuts on his chest had healed by now, apart from the deep one over his breast bone and the characters of Fu Yang's name. Without the Phoenix Fire to numb his skin, the wounds itched and burned—nothing, he reflected, compared to the pain of muscles forced to lie in one position for too long, or the increasingly desperate pleas for their expected dose his insides were sending up and out, but still, yet another aspect to make him more miserable.

Deciding that in his current wretched state he would take his chances with whatever Fu Yang would do to him, he hollered at the top of his lungs for help, but the only one he warned was, unfortunately, the very person he'd hoped who wasn't listening.

"Sssh!" said Fu Yang, arriving with a small leather suitcase and a thermos instead of his usual bags. "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

"Still guests at Fengfei's home?" Lex asked. He locked his jaws against another shiver.

"Fengfei?" Fu Yang repeated slowly.

"You said so yesterday," Lex said, getting a minimal satisfaction from the fact that it hadn't been him letting something slip, but him still being quick-witted enough to pick up someone else's slip of the tongue. "Friends of the M-Mayor's." Ha. _Shoot Lex Luthor up with flower smack, torture him and starve him, he's still sharp as a knife. Good for him._ He shivered violently.

"O dear," Fu Yang said, smiling a little. "I guess I should really pay attention to what I say to you, shouldn't I?"

Lex said nothing.

"Then again, you should listen to what I say to you, as well. I told you to remain quiet, and here you go screaming your head off."

"What can I say?" Lex drawled—as far as he could drawl with his teeth chattering— "Withdrawal sucks." There was no way he could hide his reaction, so he might just as well try and distract the psycho from his displeasure at Lex's disobedience.

He'd come to know the scientist quite well over the days. "Does it?" Fu Yang asked. He opened his case and took out two doses of Phoenix Fire, which he placed next to his scalpels on the steel table. The sight alone made Lex dizzy with need, but he managed to tear his gaze away from the plungers and fasten his eyes on Fu Yang's hated face.

"Y-yes. It does."

Fu Yang, he only now realized, looked…different. His eyebrows were shaped differently, it seemed, and his hair wasn't parted in the center anymore, but slicked back. He had also changed his clothes, Lex noticed, and was now clad in black jeans and a slim v-neck sweater instead of his usual shirt-tie-jacket. The effect was a startlingly different appearance. _Good god. Add a moustache and glasses and he's a completely different person. Even just glasses. Hell, even this way I'd probably look over him if I were looking for him._

"Tell me," Fu Yang said, and even his voice sounded different—he was definitely Fu Yang, but the accent was different. More casual.

"I really l-like what you've done with your hair," Lex said. He couldn't help it, he had to know what this was about.

For once he had the dubious pleasure to see Fu Yang rendered temporarily speechless. Then he grinned, a real grin of admiration and pleasure, and said, "So you noticed." Lex did not deign this worthy of response. "I knew I should have waited until I'd taken care of you, but…damn! You are impressive."

"This is your alter ego, I presume?" Lex said, ignoring the 'taken care of' part for the moment.

"One, yes. I am…going away for a while. Or you might say I'm becoming someone else for a while. Not too long, but still…I won't be able to come here for a few days, and I can't take you with me." He tapped a scar on Lex's chest, then, with a small shrug, quickly made a number of new cuts, varying from just one inch to about seven, and from unnoticeable to deep enough to make Lex writhe in pain. "There. One final experiment before I leave." He carefully dripped a bit of iodine into the wounds. "I wonder if they have all healed by the time I get back."

He looked up from his work to give Lex a warm smile, that crumbled with worry as he took in Lex's face. "Dear gods, but you do look awful. Ah, wait, I brought you some soup. Without the Fire, you'll need something to boost your salt levels." He picked up the thermos. "You know what? I'll let you eat it by yourself. It's quite a lot and I wouldn't want you to choke on a piece of carrot."

He cocked his tranquilizer gun, undid the strap on Lex's left wrist and stood back while Lex fiddled with the other fastenings.

Lex, to his dismay, found that his fine motor functions were beyond fucked up by the tremors that ran through his body. When he let himself slide from the gurney, he ended up on his knees on the ground, head down, one hand searching for support on the very table he'd just fled. The room spun about him—but at least he could bend his back, and that alone was wonderful.

"It's good I brought you something to eat," Fu Yang observed. "Unless you're faking your weakness. I wouldn't put that past you." He put the thermos on the slab. "Eat it when you're ready. And if you can, try to walk around a bit. You'll be reclining for quite a long period of time after I tie you back up again, so make sure your body is prepared."

"Fuck you," Lex muttered, but he dropped down on his butt and curled his back and stretched until the worst of the stiffness was gone. By then the dizziness had settled, and he felt around above him until he found the thermos.

The soup inside was at the perfect drinking temperature: warm enough to steam, but not so hot it burned his tongue. It was spicy and thick, filled with chopped up bits of vegetables and noodles. And chicken. Bits of chicken. The thermos contained about two pints of it, and he devoured all of it in about three minutes.

"Good?" asked Fu Yang. He had walked around the gurney so he could keep Lex under shot.

Lex did not nod, but he faced the other man with a heck of a lot more strength than a few minutes earlier. Amazing how much better he felt with a bit of soup inside of him. It wasn't toast and marmalade, but it most certainly beat a three meal course of Gatorade.

"I see you liked it. I'll pass on the compliments to the cook," Fu Yang quipped. He cast a quick glance at his watch. "Now come on and walk around for a bit. Really, you'll be sorry if you don't, and I don't have much time for you today. I'm sorry," he added, and to all appearances he truly was. "It would have been good to study the effects of withdrawal. Perhaps when I get back."

Lex snarled quietly. He only planned to do this inside his head, but his lip curled before he could stop himself. Despite his loathing to be treated like a lab rat, he hauled himself to his feet and did more stretching exercises, until he was more or less supple again, visited the Dixie and drank some water Fu Yang drew from a small tap in the steel table from a plastic mug.

After that, Fu Yang gestured at the table, and Lex stretched out on top of it. Maybe, when Fu Yang tried to fasten the restraints…

The other man pressed his scalpel in the soft tissue of Lex's stomach. "Don't try anything," he said pleasantly. "You probably feel strong enough to try and break free now, but even if you CAN reach my eyes, I can assure you that I'll have your appendix out before you can even attempt to hurt me." He deftly fastened one of the belts. Once, Lex moved, and immediately the scalpel sank half an inch into his belly. "Uh-uh. Keep still."

"I need to breathe!" He wondered why the scientist didn't simply tranquilize him.

"Take smaller breaths." He finished the second belt as well, and then moved to the ones around Lex's ankles.

Lex glared daggers, foils, axes and hand grenades at him. "My people will be here shortly," he hissed. Privately, he was wondering why Clark hadn't shown up yet. "I haven't contacted them at the designated time, and they'll be here any moment now."

Fu Yang carefully tucked in the loose bit of the belt. "Do you really think so? It must be so nice to be so convinced of your own value." He looked up. "Since you have been here for almost three weeks now. Are you really sure about your rescue party? Even if they had the worst possible connections and a Consul from hell, one would say that they would have arrived by now, wouldn't you?"

Lex stared at him in shock. "Three...weeks?" He shook his head. Yes, his time in the cellar had seemed to last forever, but it couldn't be _that_ long. "No. It hasn't been three weeks."

"I'm afraid it has been. Time distortion—it's one of the Fire's side effects. You've been here for quite a while now."

"I don't believe you. You always say 'Till tomorrow'. You haven't said that more often than perhaps 5, maybe six times."

Fu Yang smiled indulgently. "If you say so."

"I don't believe you," Lex said, but he wasn't sure anymore. Had it only been five or six times? And how could he be sure he'd woken up every 7 hours or so, and not ever 14 hours, or longer? He might have measured time by hunger, but he was always starving, so that left him clueless as well. His watch had the date on it, but Fu Yang had removed it when he'd tied him down. The basement was always lit only by those bulbs, and he couldn't be sure how many times the sun had risen and set while he was in here.

If chickens could be fooled to produce more eggs by shortening their artificial days, then he could have been fooled about the span of a day as well.

"I don't believe you," he repeated, already half-convinced it was true even though every fiber in his being revolted against the idea. "You're lying."

"Whatever you're most comfortable with," said Fu Yang amiably. "Now. I'll be leaving in a bit, and I'd like to just sedate you and be done with it, but the trouble with you is that I can't be sure you'll remain quiet and asleep while I'm gone. I could up the dosage, but I don't want to run the risk I overdose you. That would be a shame. So, I've decided to do

something else. A combination of some sorts." He smiled.

Lex watched with growing apprehension as the freaky motherfucker pulled yet another needle from his bag. It was huge, as large as an ice pick. He repressed the urge to start blabbing that he'd be good, and quiet, and followed the needle with his eyes as Fu Yang pushed it into a vial and pulled up the plunger.

"What is that?"

"Something to keep you quiet. Don't worry, it won't damage you permanently; I tried it out on several ordinary people before, and so far they've all recovered." He ticked the bubbles out of the syringe, put one hand on Lex's forehead and said, "Keep still now."

"What the hell are you doing?" Lex started, and then the needle went into his Adam's apple. He made a high noise of agony...and then his voice just...stopped. The pain went on, like acid being poured into his throat, but he just couldn't produce any sound anymore. Then the pain stopped as well, leaving his throat completely numb. It felt as if his Adam's apple puffed up like a balloon, cutting off his air.

"Calm down," said Fu Yang, pushing his head back against the gurney as Lex struggled in mute panic. "I only paralyzed your vocal chords. There might be some swelling, but it shouldn't hamper your respiration too much." He covered Lex's mouth with his free hand. "Breathe through your nose. It's working, you just can't feel it. Breathe. Stop panicking, just breathe through your nose. That's it."

He stepped back and watched for a moment as Lex lay gasping like a fish in the sand.

He sighed. "Oh well. I'd hoped I'd have the chance to do another little experiment before I left, but I don't think I'd get any useful values. Really, breathe though your nose."

Lex tried, but he couldn't feel the air streaming into his larynx, so he kept gasping for more until black spots floated in his vision.

"Well," he heard Fu Yang say in that odd accent. "I guess I'll put you out, then. I don't know when I'll be back. In a day or two, maybe three, I should think. When you wake up, please remember that. I wouldn't abandon you here." He smiled. He had taken the trouble to put his sedative in a real syringe this time, not smeared on the tip of a dart. Lex gave a voiceless whine when he was injected. He didn't think he'd ever be able to see another needle and not feel the same helpless anger swirling in his head.

And then Fu Yang patted his cheek in genuine affection.

And even while he opened his mouth to bite off the man's fingers, Lex fell asleep.

*

Clark learned new connotations to the word 'frustrating' after they had been taken to the hotel by Mister Shanyuang and company. As far as he learned through Mister McCarthy, Lionel had contacted Shanyuang by phone, and no one from the village itself had any knowledge of the American army's arrival. General Lane in his camouflaged Jeep (a camouflage that did not seem all too suitable in this barren, snowy place) literally brought out the people: when they finally made it to the hotel, they were standing three rows thick in the streets.

Subtle.

Clark's intention had been to leave General Lane to his business, head into town with pictures of both Lex and Chloe, show them to everyone, and simultaneously look through every wall he could find until he found them.

So he didn't speak Chinese. If you couldn't look into people's hearts, then at least he was able to look into people's basements.

Unfortunately, General Lane wouldn't let him out of his sight, and had made him promise not to run off on his own. Apparently, Shueng's Mayor was not happy to suddenly find his peaceful town invaded by the American Army, and had arrived to cook up an almighty stink.

Mister Shanyuang made it known that the Mayor was corrupt and should be disregarded as an impostor.

The Mayor turned seven shades of red and threatened with governmental actions, and indeed it almost seemed for a moment that everyone was going to be taken into custody until the Chinese army and a handful of diplomats could come to talk things over, but Mister McCarthy spoke quietly to both Shanyuang and to the Mayor (and the people he had slowly accumulated over the day), and something the colorless man said to the Mayor made him pale, turn away, and leave with the empty threat that they 'Would regret this.'

"Blown-up windbag," Sam Lane said, and finally lit the cigar he'd been chewing on the entire afternoon. Other people smoked to stave off stress. Lois' dad preferred chewing his stress away, and only smoked for decoration. He put the thing away after three puffs or so.

"Perhaps," McCarthy said, tapping a slim cigarette out of a silver cigarette box. He offered Lois one, too, when he noticed her hankering look. After a short hesitation—he was Lionel Luthor's animal, after all—her addiction won out. She nodded her thanks and pulled one out as well. "But nevertheless he can cause a lot of trouble if he wants to. Mister Luthor was able to make up some sort of official reason for the American army to be here. Unfortunately, this man has either not received the memo, or refutes its existence, or plain lies about everything."

"I'm telling you he is a fraud," Mister Shanyuang cried, bashing his fist on the table.

They were all sitting in the Bridal Suite of the hotel. It was the biggest room available that wasn't a conference room, and while the heart-shaped pillows and the lacy bedding were somewhat out of place, especially with six men in uniform, a slight gentleman in a gray suit, several Chinese businessmen and two young reporters in civilian clothes spread out over the room, Clark wished he could take a picture because Chloe would have found it hilarious.

He sighed. By now it was dark, and it didn't look as if he could be excused anytime soon. At any other time he might have blurred off anyway—ignoring people's orders was, after all, something he'd always excelled at—but he didn't want to be the cause of a war. All he could do was fidget.

Lois, sitting next to him on the bed (because the soldiers all refused to sit down on a bed covered with a lace and silk quilt with cranes on it), fidgeted as well. She was halfway through McCarthy's cigarette, and had taken it out of her mouth and was studying its mouthpiece with half-closed eyes.

Clark took a peek as well. The cigarette seemed a bit thin to him, but was longer than Lois' usual Marlboros. If it had a filter-tip, it was not visible from the outside (although it was when he looked a bit 'harder'; it had a filter, the smallest he'd ever seen in a cigarette), and about a quarter inch from the end it had a thin gold line to show which end to put into one's mouth. He'd never have thought to say it about a cigarette, but it screamed 'made to measure' from the creamy white of its thin paper wrapper to the wreath of fragrant smoke rising from its elegant tip.

Lois seemed to share his thoughts. "I think more man hours were put into the creation of this cigarette than in the building of the plane we flew in on," she whispered. McCarthy and Shanyuang were talking in Chinese again. The first reproduced the conversation in English every couple of minutes (the ENTIRE conversation. Clark had the feeling that he remembered every single sentence, translated it, and repeated it literally) but when only Chinese was being spoken, the Americans conversed softly amongst themselves—apart from the General and two of his men, who pretended to be able to follow at least part of the dialogue in Chinese.

"Good cig?" Clark asked.

"Great cig," she agreed. "Tastes amazing, and I could use the smoke for perfume." She took a powerful drag, burning through an entire inch of tobacco, and exhaled five rings in a row. "You know what would make it perfect?"

"An ash tray?"

"No." She tapped off the ash into the palm of her hand. The room was non-smoking, but everyone had unanimously decided to ignore the signs even though they had a picture and the request not to smoke in seven languages. "What would make this fag perfect was if I could smoke it outside while looking for Chloe. I mean, what the hell are we doing in this room? Nothing. Why aren't we out there searching for her?"

"Because if we do, we'll cause world war three, apparently," said Clark.

Lois glowered at him. "I was being rhetorical," she said waspishly. "I get that we can't go out there. What I don't get, is why. What's the use of us coming here if we can't go and look for them?"

_Lex knew this, _Clark thought. _At least I think he did. I think that's why he had me come along, so that I could slip away and find Chloe and him while the army keeps the Mayor busy._

Again he cursed the fact that he'd given General Lane his word he wouldn't go out and look for them on his own. It would be so easy to claim he had to go to the bathroom and zoom around town to at least investigate. But if he were seen, he'd be in a lot of trouble, and he didn't want to be forced to show his powers after being locked up in Shueng's containment cell. He didn't want to be locked up, or stand out any more than he already did. If needs be, he could always jump out of the window when everyone finally got to bed. Better postpone the search with a few hours than with an entire day.

So he waited, next to Lois. McCarthy, Shanyuang and the General talked on.

Politics, Clark thought, were responsible for more deaths than fire weapons.

*

The evening after the evening they had pushed Crystal into Chloe's cell, someone came by to ask Chloe a few questions, handily making use of Crystal as an interpreter. That, at least, explained why they had been reunited.

The questions had been of the 'who are you and what are you doing here?' kind. Chloe had answered them as honestly as she could. She saw no reason to persist in stubborn silence—all they'd do was take Crystal away again. Besides, this interview enabled her to ask a few questions of her own, which were mostly of the 'where am I, what do you want with me and when will you let me go?' kind. Neither her interviewer nor Chloe got the feeling their lives were much enriched after the questioning was concluded.

Chloe was assured that her incarceration would not last for a terribly long time, but that, until the time arrived for her to regain her freedom, she was to stay here. Where 'here' was, the man who spoke to her would not say. When she prodded Crystal to ask if 'here' was in the temple, the man's eyes widened briefly, but whether that was in surprise at a correct guess or stupefaction with such an idiotic idea she couldn't tell.

Lex, she was told, was not here. She would meet him again once he'd fulfilled his purpose.

"What purpose?" Chloe asked immediately, but the man shrugged, and wouldn't or couldn't say more about it.

She was asked if she needed something. She told him she wanted out of this rank room. He replied that unfortunately, that was quite impossible, since the building she was residing in was trapped. She was locked up for her own safety. That, Chloe thought, was the lamest excuse she'd ever heard, and she made no attempt to hide her scorn.

"Why do you keep kids in this place?" she asked. She was not very surprised when Crystal did not get an answer to translate.

"Why did you kill Wong?"

"We do not kill people," the man replied, looking awkward, and then got up, ending the conversation.

When he left, thankfully without taking Crystal with him, Chloe once again took off her shoes (she had put them on again, because her feet got so cold after waiting shoeless for about 5 hours) and sat down next to the door, determined to break out this time.

The difficulty was staying on the alert at all times. Visits were infrequent; the last one had been entirely unexpected too. The latch on the other side of the door was annoyingly irregular; sometimes it apparently got stuck, and then it squeaked and alerted the prisoners of company to come up to ten seconds before the door opened. At other times the bolt moved almost silently and had the door opened and closed before they could even sit up straight.

It was highly frustrating.

"Maybe I should start screaming again," proposed Crystal. "I don't have a reason to scream, so that might make them come and check on us."

"Maybe. But they'd also suspect foul play, and be more vigilant—or worse, they might come in numbers." She sighed. "No, I have to knock out our waiter when he comes with our next meal."

"It's almost six," Crystal said, taking her place opposite the door. "I doubt they'd make us wait more than two hours for dinner."

"Let's hope so," Chloe said resignedly.

*

It was three at night.

Clark sneaked from one shadow to the next, wondering what the hell he was expecting to find in the dead of night, and why he even bothered trying to find someone while he was so tired he had to squeeze himself every few minutes to stay awake.

Traveling, when not done on his own two legs, was absurdly exhausting. Listening to a pair of diplomats was even more tiresome. The fresh air outside had temporarily woken him up, but now, two hours later, after five thousand sleeping people regarded through thin walls, two drunks avoided by jumping over hedge rows, and five shrines scouted out, he was running out of energy.

This town looked so damned NORMAL. Lex had mentioned a civil war, but if there was any war going on it was fought somewhere far below the surface, or otherwise high in the mountains.

That might be an idea.

He jogged out of town and up the nearest mountain, looked up and down, peered through rocks and into rivers, but found nothing in any way interesting.

He listened. In the mountains, in town.

All he heard was the breathing of sleeping people, the occasional baby crying, a couple fighting, a group of youngsters celebrating youth with an abundance of alcohol.

He saved twenty chickens from a gruesome fate by picking up a salivating stray dog and depositing it near an overflowing garbage can a few streets removed from the coop. He doused a fire started by a dropped cigarette, and prevented a suicide by dragging a woman from a car and then turning off the engine and removing the hose from the exhaust. He hoped she'd see it as divine intervention and could somehow find the strength to continue living her life. If not…it really was a pity, but he just couldn't let people kill themselves when he was around.

Once he thought he had found a man with criminal intention who kept people tied up in his basement, but after a second glance he found out that those people didn't mind being chained to the wall, and also seemed to enjoy being beaten with whips and poked with strap-ons.

After that last discovery, Clark took his weary, stunned body and returned to the hotel. He obviously needed a little more information to find either Lex or Chloe.

*

The next morning, McCarthy, Lane and Fengfei came to some sort of an agreement. The soldiers swarmed into town in pairs, but without their weapons, because that was apparently against the conventions.

Shanyuang kept repeating that the Mayor was a fraud. However, several of the Mayor's closest friends swore that he was, indeed, Fengfei Jaoh, and that the good businessman's perception was screwed up by the disappearance of his granddaughter and his colleagues. Had the missing Mister Luthor claimed the Mayor was a replacement too? Well, then Mister Luthor must be a bit soft in the head, mustn't he? After all, who would know best? The Mayor's advisor: the bespectacled and mustached Mister Zhanhan; his close friend: the respectable Mister Zi Fan Yan; or the foreign Mister Luthor?

"And Fu Yang?" Shanyuang kept saying. "Where'd he go?" But nobody seemed to know who he was talking about.

Fengfei remained untouchable, and if any of the invading outlanders dared to even approach his mansion on the high road, he would have them thrown into jail, American army or not.

The moment the General got the 'go' sign from McCarthy, both Clark and Lois went into the streets as well, bearing pictures and pocket dictionaries.

Clark spent most of the time filtering through the sounds of the town. He particularly focused on screaming men and women. It was extraordinary how much time people spent screaming; most often not because of pain or despair either. Anger, joy, exultation…He did save a toddler from drowning in a pond after being alerted by its mother's screams, but if Lex and Chloe were locked up somewhere in the neighborhood, they weren't screaming.

"Oh, there you are," Lois said, as he nonchalantly pretended to jog around a corner while he'd actually raced to the other side of town because he thought he had heard someone speak English. To make things even harder there were several people in Shueng who spoke English. "Where'd you go?"

"I saw a lady around the corner," Clark pointed to the non-existent lady. "She just went that way. She hadn't seen Chloe either."

Lois heaved a sigh. Like Clark, she couldn't have gotten much sleep, and her face was pale with weariness. "It's hopeless! Either they've seen her and they don't know where she is, or they haven't even heard of her and look at me as though I'm mad." She shook a cigarette out of a newly acquired pack and lit it with a zippo in the shape of a hippo. Her fingers in her woolen gloves slipped twice before she could produce a proper flame.

"I'd almost prefer it if they all pretended they didn't know her, you know," she continued, tucking the lighter away and blowing out a cloud of smoke. "If there'd be some sense of mystery or…I don't know. Crime. But there isn't! This town is even more boring than Smallville! You say Junior claimed there was a civil war going on? Where was it? Inside his own head? Because this," she gestured at an idyllic garden with a partly-frozen fountain in the center, and two dangerous-looking teenagers playing PSPs sitting on the edge, "is not what a war looks like!"

"It might play underground…" Clark countered weakly, but she shook her head.

"I went undercover in the Suicide Slums for that Pimp Article, remember. Now that was what war looks like. Even if there are two syndicates here, they're not fighting things out in the streets here. No one knows anything about it."

One of the kids, a girl with blue hair and far too much eyeliner, briefly glanced up as Lois flung herself down on the bench in front of the fountain, but quickly looked away again when Lois glared a challenge. While Clark, who was indestructible, sometimes felt uncomfortable around young people reigned by hormones, Lois refused to ever be cowed.

"Suicide Slums isn't exactly a dreamy little village in the middle of nowhere."

"No, but it had this threatening atmosphere, and here all I feel was some kind of Christmas happiness. And what about that Phoenix Fire stuff? She wrote about it in one of her last emails. I mentioned it to this guy a few streets ago, and he didn't have a clue what I was talking about. I mean, how can they not know it if their town is invaded by drug barons if they don't even know the name of the drug?"

"Perhaps," the girl spoke up from the edge of the fountain in clear if heavy accented English, "if you mention Chinese drug name instead of English."

Both Clark and Lois gaped at her. She regarded especially Lois with obvious disdain. The boy next to her put his PSP into his lap and nodded. "How you think you know anything if you don't have right words to speak?" he said. "How long you here? One day? How can you possibry know anything about Shueng?"

Outch.

Lois, however, had already accepted the jibe and had produced Chloe's picture.

"Have you ever seen this girl?"

"Of course," the blue-haired girl said. "That is Chloe. She's disappeared. We know. We already searched for her, and for her boyfriend."

Clark repressed a smile. Lex Luthor, Chloe's boyfriend. Something about that phrase was hilarious. "Are you Ai-li? The girl with the orchid on her back?" And when her eyes widened in potential 'you're a lech!' upset, he added, "We're friends of Chloe's. And Lex." For once, Lois didn't snort. "She wrote us about you, in an email."

"You see photo?"

"No," he said, puzzled. "What photo?"

"Nothing." She waved suddenly, and when they look back they saw a third boy enter the park, three paper bags with toasted and sugared chestnuts in his hands. He raised one of the bags in greeting. "That Lung," she said. "Also friend of Chloe."

"And you're Ai-li. That makes him…Umm…At?"

"Ta," the boy said, grinning. He accepted one of the hot bags. "Who are you?"

"He's Clark. I'm Lois. I'm Chloe's cousin." Lois went back to business. "So, when did you see her last?"

"A few days ago. We'd gone to the hidden shrine. We were going to meet again next afternoon, at the internet café—take her to market. But she didn' show. So we text her—she gave us phone number. She didn't answer."

"You have her phone number?" Lois asked.

"You don't?" the third boy asked suspiciously.

"Not the one she'd use here," Clark said. "She wouldn't use her American sim card here—it would cost her a fortune. Can I have her number? It might help us find her," he added, when the three stared at him warily. It took a few moments of Chinese conversation, then the girl nodded and gave him a phone number. Clark dialed it. All he got was a polite Chinese voice and then a beep.

"No reply," Ta said, stating it as a fact, not a question. "Just as day we wanted to go to market."

"No," said Clark.

"Do you know anything else that might help us?" Lois asked. "Anywhere she might have gone? Anyone," she added wryly, "either she or Lex might have pissed off?"

But the kids knew nothing. They said they would keep their eyes and ears open, and provided Lois with an email address she could use to contact them. Then Lung said it was almost dark, and they had to get going, which they did, skipping off as the first snow flakes began to fall. Yet for all their willingness to help, Clark couldn't help feeling as if they were hiding something.

"They DO know something," Lois said, voicing his thoughts again. It was funny; they often misread each other completely, but somehow their minds ran roughly the same course when it came to investigations.

Clark nodded. "Yes, I agree. But what?"

His partner lit another cigarette. "I don't know. I'll mail that girl tonight, see if I can get something out of her without her friends present." She shivered. Even without taking a drag, her breath misted in the air. "I'm freezing. Aren't you cold?"

Clark looked down on his open jacket, remembered that he should feign a vulnerability to low temperature and produced a shiver as well. "Yes," he said, zipping up his jacket. "it's cold. We should head back to the hotel."

"One more round," Lois said. "In case we missed something."

"Right," said Clark.

*

creak

The squeaking sound brought Chloe to her feet. She raised her shoes, her fists lodged securely in the iron-clad toes of her Doctor Martens.

Simultaneously, Crystal took a deep breath, hunched over against the wall opposite the door. When it opened and a hand appeared with two packages of food, she released her breath in a piercing scream and flung herself against the wall.

It worked.

It worked like a dream.

The man took that one fatal step inside, neglecting to look to his right, and by the time he noticed Chloe, it was too late. The boot hit him full force on his temple. A second shod uppercut brought him down, and by then Crystal had darted forward, gripped the edge of his shirt and dragged it up over his head and arms, thereby rendering him blind and more or less helpless.

"Got him!" she panted. Before the man could make a sound, she had given him a solid chop in the neck, and he went down with a groan; not unconscious, but stunned at least.

"Let's go, let's go!" Chloe said. She was out the door before the man could even sit up. Crystal followed in a heartbeat. They slammed the door shut behind them and Crystal hastily bolted it up.

"Wait," she said, when Chloe started down the hall. "Put your shoes on first. We might need to run, maybe outside, and you don't want to run on rock."

"You're so sensible," Chloe grinned, giddy with adrenaline. She quickly wriggled her feet into her boots, leaning against the door for support. Inside, the man had regained his senses and was now screaming for help. The sound echoed faintly, but the door was thick, and Chloe doubted it would send anyone running. "Scream, baby. It'll do you as much good as it did me."

But now she was free, free, finally out of that accursed room, free to get back and find out what the hell was going on. She slapped her palm against the door, urging the man inside to be quiet, and looked around her.

It was a hall, not a room—but she'd known that, Crystal had told her. Whether the hall belonged to a temple she couldn't be sure, but on the floor were strange, half-faded patterns of many-armed people, and she thought they might be various interpretations of Shiva. _Either the temple goes a lot deeper than everyone thought, of there's a mighty nice dig just aching for a couple of archeologists to come by._

She finished her laces, tucked the ends into the cuffs of her boots. "Where are your colleagues?"

Crystal pointed. "That way."

"Okay, let's go," said Chloe. She went off at a run, Crystal hot on her heels.

The moment one of her feet touched Shiva's head on the floor, the tiles making up the rest of his body folded like paper.

She saw the gleam of steel points, and while she couldn't stop her fall, made a desperate attempt to twist her body away from them.

"CHLOE!!!" Crystal shrieked, loud enough to bring down an entire mountain…

But then she fell, arms milling, into what could definitely be classified as a trap, and when she hit the bottom, she had ten terrible seconds to realize…to FEEL that two of those spikes were now sticking out of her leg…that a third had torn a deep gash in her left side…that, while she was in so much shock she hardly even felt pain, she DID feel something warm begin to soak her coat and the sweater beneath it…before mercifully blacking out.

TBC

Ha. You didn't think I'd just let Lex get hurt, did you?


	13. Chapter 12 two

Hey hey! Again, getting this posted took more time than I planned. Sorry.

Boobug, the sheepbone thing is something I learned from my ex. He was in the army, and apparently they learned such interesting tidbits when they were training.

As always many thanks for reviewing, people!! A bit of Lois' POV this chapter, and Lex not quite being himself.

**Eleven: Chloe Breaks Out and Lois Rescues the Wrong Damsel (part 2)**

Lois sat at the breakfast table, looking from one tight face to the other.

Her father, stabbing at his scrambled eggs as if they were responsible for the whole mess, was angry because five prime specimens of the army, plus one General, plus two reporters AND a political genius translator had been unable to find as much as a hint of where one young man and a young woman had disappeared to.

The soldiers were angry because of much the same reason, and also because the General had told them in his own unsubtle way how displeased he was with the current results. They had expected to enter a civil war zone, and instead were confronted with a peaceful little town that reacted to their presence with surprise, awe, and useless friendliness.

Mister Shanyuang and his people were angry as well and sat in a miasma of Asian discontent, noticeable as an almost tangible cold front around their rice-and-vegetable-eating group. Lois couldn't blame them. Not even their own government had taken the time to help them, and somehow they were not convinced by McCarthy's way of getting things done.

McCarthy, in turn, was out of sorts because he hadn't been called back by the minister of Foreign Affairs, as he had requested the previous evening. Apparently McCarthy was not used to not being called back by ministers. He crunched away at his cereal as if he were performing a public execution. Death by molars, crunch, crunch, crunch.

Clark was angry because Clark usually found missing people in an hour or so—or rather, he wasn't angry, but he sulked, which was even worse. He was shoveling toast, eggs and sausages into his mouth with distracted gluttony. Well, with muscles like that he probably needed the fats and the fibers. Still, after eight pieces of toast and seven sausages looking at him began to make her feel slightly sick, so she looked out of the window instead.

It was still dark outside. During the night it had snowed, and the Hotel lights glittered on the virginal white surface broken only by strings of bird feet imprints.

_Where the hell can she be? _

_And why did they take her?_

So far no ransom demands had been made, and no further threats against the Sparkling Sources people had been issued. Several of them had gone home, leaving only four: Shanyuang and three younger men whose names she had already forgotten, and their body guards. The guards sat at another table, pretending to be unobtrusive behind cups of coffee. If they ate, they didn't do it in public.

She prodded her congealed eggs. They had long since cooled and were becoming less appetizing by the minute.

Lots of people have seen her, but no one knows where she is now. A few people spoke to her, but rarely more than a few words. Apart from those three kids. If I...

"I'm finished," Clark said abruptly, putting down his cutlery. "There's something I want to check out. I'll be back in...well, soon."

"Don't be..." the General started, but Clark nodded and had paced out of the room before he could finish his sentence.

"I'm done, too," Lois said. She got up, snatching two muesli bars from the buffet table.

Her father looked up from his eggs with a snap. "Don't go anywhere on your own. Either wait for Kent to come back or take Joey with you."

"Sir," said Joey, jumping to his feet.

The last thing she wanted was to be baby-sat by a soldier. "I'm just going to brush my teeth," she said. "Clark should be back in a bit." She would give him five minutes. The five minutes it would take her to go back to her room, brush her teeth and fetch her coat, to be exact. Because she suddenly thought she HAD been given a lead.

The market. The children yesterday, they had mentioned the market not once but twice, and even though she couldn't fathom why they hadn't spoken more plainly, she thought they must have tried to give them a hint. So, to the market she would go. With or without Clark.

After all, how dangerous could a bloody MARKETplace be? Damn it all to hell, she was a grown woman who'd gone undercover in places where druggies and criminals spent more time shooting one another either up or down than they spent talking. If there'd actually been a threat somewhere in this village it would be something different, but come on! This town was the perfect model of small-town goodliness.

She went back to her room and huffed with amusement when she found that during the thirty minutes she'd been downstairs having breakfast, the staff had managed to make her bed, clean the dustbins, rearrange her towels and fold the toilet paper to a tip in its holder. Seriously, these people should learn to lighten up.

She brushed her teeth, unhooked the charger of her phone and tucked her cell into her jacket pocket, put on some make-up in case she needed to charm her way through, and checked her watch. Seven minutes had passed since she'd left the dining room.

Making sure she had her cigarettes, her mace (she wondered if Chloe had listened to her and added mace to her bag's standard contents as well—although Lois didn't have a bag) and her Hippo Zippo with her, she locked her door, knocked on Clark's. He was in a room two doors away from hers. No reply. She wished she knew what went on in that handsome but singularly thick head of his.

"Great partnership, Smallville. 'I want to check something out.' Why didn't you take me with you?"

She took the stairs instead of the elevator to keep the chance of running into one of the soldiers or her father to a minimum. They'd make sure she'd have to wait for hours until Clark returned, or hamper her every move by acting as her body guards.

Only when she reached the entrance, she realized that she had no idea where the market was. It was probably on the map they had all been given, but if it was, she couldn't read it because everything was, thank you, oh tower of Babel, in Chinese.

She had just lit a cigarette out of pure frustration and was glaring at the map as if to force it to divulge its secrets to her (It didn't. Even when she compared the characters for 'market' from her pocket dictionary with the legend of the map, she couldn't find the damn market), when a polite "Ahem," made her look up.

A slender young man in the hotel's uniform pointed at her smoke. "I am solly. No smoking allowed inside."

"Oh!" She hadn't even realized she was smoking. She really should quit one of these days. Or moderate. "Sorry."

The man held out his hand. In it was an ash tray. Feeling very self-conscious, Lois stubbed out her cig in its gleaming metal circle. "Sorry."

"No problem." He gave her a very small smile, that nevertheless seemed genuine.

"Say," said Lois, holding out her map. "Do you know where I can find the marketplace?"

"Market?" The smile faded. "Why you want to go to market? I thought you were searching for…" He stopped. "Apologies. It is none of my business."

"No," Lois said. "We ARE looking for Chloe Sullivan. But I got a hint that she might have been there at one point. I just want to check it out." She regarded the young man with his poignant face with curiosity. "Why? Why shouldn't I go to the market? It said in the leaflet in my room that it's market day on Friday. And it happens to be Friday today…"

"Market is not the safest place for young American woman," the staff member said curtly. Another man who thought women were helpless sylphs that needed men to be protected. Even though he was half a head shorter than Lois, and one kick of her boots could bring him down to a blubbering heap of crushed-balled misery.

She nodded. "I can take care of myself."

He seemed to consider for a second, then shrugged and tapped his finger on her map. "Here is market. Go from here," he pointed at a small street and a square, "all the way to here." The last bit ended quite close to a very large house. "Begin is ordinary market. Food, cloth, leatherwear. Over there, is…is rich people market. Expensive goods, like vases and antique."

"Ok," she said. She checked the distance. "I can walk this, can't I?"

"Yes," the helpful man said, nodding. "Is about fifteen minute walk. Nice weather today, no more snow."

"You'd think so?"

"Yes. Especially nice to go in two. With friend."

"Thank you so much for your time," Lois said, dismissing the sucker with a bright smile.

Five minutes later she was on her way. One thing was true: the weather was lovely. The air was very cold, but crisp and clear, and small birds were chirruping in the trees and the hedge rows. Children were playing in gardens and parks, making snow men and riding sledges. Any picture she could take would make a perfect Christmas card.

The picture postcard nature of the morning cheered her up significantly. Yesterday, the pleasantness of Shueng had grated on her nerves, but now it made her feel hopeful and optimistic. She was convinced she'd find a clue of Chloe's whereabouts.

She smelled the market long before she entered it: warm, oily smells of baked and deep-fried foods, the metallic stink of raw meat and the sea-salt odor of fish, the sweet fragrance of fruit and spices; a myriad of smells, both nice and nasty, creating a picture before she saw it in her head. At nine-thirty, it was completely light, but red and yellow lanterns hanging from every stand pole cast the place in a warm glow.

Actually, she thought, as she stepped past two huge stone guardian statues that looked like lions with severe indigestion and that indicated the entrance to the market, it was pretty much like the Saturday market in Metropolis-West. The only difference was that she topped everyone else with four or five inches, and that she couldn't understand a thing of what the merchants were yelling. And the smell, the smell was different, too. More spices. More food for sale.

She'd just had breakfast, but since she'd played with it more than she'd eaten it, she bought what she thought was a spring roll from a street vendor. After the first bite, she was surprised to find out that it tasted sweet, and was filled with a sugary syrup and banana. The taste was excellent, though, and once she'd adjusted to having something sweet instead of savory, she thoroughly enjoyed the banana spring roll.

While she strolled over the market, she made sure to find landmarks she would be able to recognize when she wanted to find a place or booth back. The entrance wouldn't be a problem because of the guardian statues, but further down the market the booths were roofed, and the moment she stepped into that enclosed space full of milling people and chattering sellers, it was as if she'd entered an overpopulated labyrinth.

Here, the spices were sold. One stall sold only dried flower petals, but whether it was to add to food, to eat, or put in a bath, Lois had no idea. She showed the merchant Chloe's picture, but the woman shook her head and offered her a red petal in sugar. Lois wanted to decline, but she didn't want to be rude, so she took it and carefully nibbled at a point. It mainly tasted sweet, like edible bath foam. She smiled politely and walked off to try her luck elsewhere.

After the spices came the meat. The fish had been outside, but the meat wasn't, probably because it had to be stored somewhere, and the stench of offal, mainly sheep and goats, made her feel sick, as did the blind severed sheep's heads displayed on the counter. She had to repress a gag reflex when one tiny round woman ordered two sheep heads and played with the noses before they were put in a bag for her. No one had seen Chloe here, either, and she was happy to move on.

In the last part of the covered part of the market contained several stands for tattooists, three in a row. Lois vaguely wondered why they hadn't taken their place next to the spices instead of the meat. Sure, she could see why their 'wares' had to be sold indoors, but really, couldn't they have picked a spot where it didn't smell like a mortuary? The last thing anyone could want was to lie on a slab with a needle in their flesh, wondering if it was them or the meat that smelled like that.

One die-hard was seated in the chair, undergoing his treatment with stoic indifference. He was a buff kind of guy, about nineteen or twenty years old, Lois guessed, and although the tattoo was being placed on his arm he had taken off both jacket and T-shirt, showing the world a well-trained upper body.

_Oh, _Lois squealed silently, fluttering internal hands in sarcastic girlishness. _You're SO manly, sitting there in that chair half-naked while some man barely recognizable as being human for all the drawings on his skin spreads his hobby all over your arm!_

She wouldn't mind talking to the tattooist, though, but since both men ignored her, she instead checked out the many pictures pinned to the wall of the booth, demonstrating the art of the tattooist. Flowers and fish, mainly. Tigers and panthers, both western-looking and Chinese. Cranes. Dragons. A spider that made her shiver despite herself. She really wasn't afraid of spiders but the mere thought of having this beast on your body….eew. She saw no hearts and characters that might mean 'I love Mom', but there were enough strange patterns and characters to satisfy even the most fervent tattoo-lover. She shot another glance at the merchant and his customer—both still busy—and almost walked on to come back at a later time…when she noticed what the guy in the booth was having tattooed on his arm.

It was a Phoenix.

"_Fengfei_," she said, one of the very few words she knew.

The tattooist looked up from his needle. The client tore his gaze from the wall. Their eyes fastened on her, and something in those eyes made Lois decide it was high time to leave. Wait, _fengfei_ didn't mean Phoenix. At least, it did, but it wasn't the word for Phoenix, it was a name.

"Heh," she said, waved and quickly ran off.

Ever after that strange meeting, she felt as if the atmosphere of the market had changed. As if someone was watching her. Inside, the feeling was almost overwhelming, and she left as quickly as she could, but even when she came outside again the feeling of being watched persisted.

As the man in the lobby had said, the market on this side of the covered part was different than the one on the other side. Food was replaced by various kinds of painted silks, traditional clothes, jewelry and fans. The vendors were more soft-spoken and didn't hawk their wares. Instead, they regarded their potential customers with hooded eyes, shooting forward like piranhas whenever someone lingered over a porcelain vase, a flower folded from a million hair-thin paper leafs, a bone hair pin carved in the shape of a water lily. The customers, as well, seemed less commonplace; Lois saw more silk than cotton for clothing, and far less jeans than in the first part.

When Lois showed them Chloe's picture, the salespeople lost interest, shook their heads and moved on to more promising prospects, and the buyers simply walked around her.

She wandered through the market, absently noting that she'd been here for almost one and a half hours now. She dutifully sent Clark a message to let him know she was at the market, but he didn't reply, so she gathered she hadn't been missed yet.

A woman selling the most beautifully black painted silk wall drapes widened her eyes when she saw Chloe's picture, and nodded when Lois asked whether she'd seen this woman before. Unfortunately her English was poor to say the least, and Lois didn't understand much of the reply. All she gathered was that both Lex and Chloe had visited either her house or her store, and that they were friends of her daughter.

"Blue hair?" Lois asked, indicating her own pony tail. "Lots of make-up? Ai-li?"

"Yes. Ai-li." One of her associates muttered something to her, and she reached over her display to touch Lois' wrist. "Not safe," she said softly. "Go home. You draw them attention."

Lois stiffened. "Draw whose attention? Phoenix? Fengfei?"

"Sssh!" Ai-li's mother hissed, her fingers digging into Lois' wrist. She furtively looked into the direction of the huge house Lois had already noticed on the map. The silks booth was only about a hundred yards away from the wall that ran around the building's garden. From where she was standing, Lois could see about three foot of that wall, the rest was obscured by other vendors. "Foreign people not say that name."

"Why not?" Lois asked. "Do you know what happened to my cousin?"

The woman shook her head. "Safer not know." Again she looked at the wall. Lois followed her gaze. A man in gray clothes had filled the gap. He was staring straight at her. Ai-li's mother picked up her hand and pressed a business card into her palm. "Go," she urged, smiling. "Go now. Go back, talk to Ai-li. To her friend, Ta. About his blother. Now, go!"

Lois knew when to take a hint. She stuffed the card into her pocket. "Ok. Thank you."

"Go," the woman repeated, and Lois walked away.

A few stands on her way back, she saw another man in gray. He had not noticed her yet, but something about him made her turn on her heel and go into another direction. Then there was another, chatting to an old man selling glasswork. Lois walked past him, towards the roofed part of the market.

He gazed at her, slapped the old man on the shoulder and followed her.

Lois ducked into another street of stalls, away from the meat and spices department. She may be obstinate but she wasn't stupid; she wasn't going to get cornered in that stinking maze.

A moment later, she saw yet another man in gray. She began to walk faster, then to job as yet another one came into view. Two of them had already met up; she saw the third one dart out of sight as she turned yet another corner. By now she had already passed the silks booth again, from the other side, that was, but that wasn't to be helped. When she saw a fourth gray man appear in front of her, she started to jog.

And when something metallic and shiny flashed in one of their hands, she gave up all pretense and broke into a full out run.

Back to the entrance of the market was out of the question, so she made for the other side. The men in gray didn't seem to like that idea; when they noticed she was running for the big house they started to run as well. Lois had half a foot on leg-length alone. She passed the last stall at a gallop, saw two ways, one straight towards the wall of the house, and one into an alley. Maybe they'd leave her alone if she moved away from the house. She darted into the alley.

Wrong.

When she glanced behind her, she saw that the following herd had now reached the prosperous number of five, and several of those carried knives.

_Fuck!_ She moved faster. Life as a reporter, filled with people who didn't want to talk and tried to get as great a distance between themselves and the persistent lady with the mike, had given her an excellent stamina. Her cell emitted the first few notes of the Friends theme song—Clark, probably, finally realizing she still existed and checking on her, but she decided against stopping to dig it out of her overstuffed pocket.

Another cross-roads, one leading to a broader street, the other to a narrow little lane. Every sane person would obviously take the broad street. Lois flew into the lane, hoping her pursuers would think she'd make the obvious choice. Legs pumping, she raced as fast as she could without looking back. From wealthy and busy, the streets had gone to completely deserted and drab. It was as if she'd somehow entered some kind of hidden slum belonging to the rich houses.

She turned another corner, glancing back just before she took it. Damn it, two of those guys were still behind her. She'd managed to split them up, and that was good, but as she was watching those remaining two noticed her as well and started yelling, and that was bad.

She ran off again, flung herself into the umpteenth narrow street….and bumped square into a large, iron door.

"No!" Desperate, she flung herself against it…

…and to her immense surprise, the door swung open. Without wasting more time on wise consideration she slipped inside, found a bolt and closed it. Gasping for breath, she sank to the ground with her back against the door and winced, then smiled, as she heard excited voices jabbering outside. A fist crashed against the door, but it didn't open, and she gave a soft laugh of nerves and relief.

_Beat 'em. For the time being, that is._ Her smile faltered as a grating sound told her that the people on the other side also had the means to lock the door. She cursed. It was one thing to lock the bad people out, but quite another to lock herself in. She didn't know where she was, and it wouldn't do to find twenty of those creeps on the other side of the wall. She took another moment to catch her breath and considered calling Clark.

No. Not yet. Let's not alert people to my existence by making phone calls.

She got up, studied her surroundings. At the moment she was in what looked like some sort of very short, broad hallway, the door at her back less than three foot away from a wall with another door. It was closed, but a key was stuck inside the lock and when she turned it and gingerly pressed the handle, the door opened smoothly enough.

She almost walked into another wall; this one ended a few yards to her right. The first thing she noticed was that it was warm, here, quite comfortably so. It smelled odd, like a basement, with a hint of antiseptics and the musty rankness she'd also encountered when she'd first cleaned out her rooms at the Talon.

Inching her way along the wall, she peaked into the room beyond. Only one light bulb spread a radius of cold light, casting her side of the room in shadows. It more or less blinded her, but what she did see was that at about fifty feet away from her, there was another door.

_Yes!_

She went back to fetch the key from the second door, just to make sure no one would follow her in, and took a careful step into the room.

A raw, hoarse voice barked something in Chinese, and she whipped around, startled.

And then she gaped.

Because tied to a gurney, just behind the little wall she'd been hiding behind, was Lex Luthor.

He said something else, voice breaking, and yanked so hard at his constraints the gurney moved a few inches with a protesting squeal.

"Lex," Lois breathed. She ducked into the room, trying to take in the whole space in one look—but there was no one else around. No one but Lex. She ran towards the platform.

"Lex!" she hissed, and then gasped as she came closer. His shirt was open, and his chest was one bloody mess. It couldn't be too serious, though, because he reacted to her voice and the sound of her footsteps by tearing even harder at his bonds.

"Who is it? G-get me off of this thing!"

"It's me. Lois." She started to tug on his bonds. Leather straps with buckles, thank god, no cuffs or more intricate contraptions. They were pulled tight around Lex's chafed, red wrists and around his ankles, but easy to undo for a second person. His sleeves were rolled up to above the elbow; a loosely tied rubber string hung a little above his right elbow. It didn't seem to cut off his blood flow, so Lois ignored it for the time being, concentrating on the buckle.

"Get me off!" Lex repeated in that same hysterical raw-throated whisper. "Get me the hell off this thing."

"I'm trying, ok?" she snapped back. "And lie still, I can't get this open if you keep pulling at it like that."

"Just get me off!"

The moment she had one of his arms free he used that hand to grab for the strap around his other wrist. Lois went for the ones around his ankles. The heels of his shoes were drumming against the surface of the gurney like jumping beans; she realized he was shaking like a cup on a saucer in an earth quake.

Well, they obviously tortured him. That might have induced shock. He's probably in shock.

The last buckle sprang loose. Lex promptly fell off the slab and crawled to his knees. He slapped Lois' supporting hand away, pulled himself up with the help of the gurney and began to unfasten his pants.

"Uh, Lex…" Lois said, taking a step back. "What are you doing?"

"I've been tied up to that thing for…I don't know. Ages," he snarled. "I need to take a piss. You don't wanna see it, you look away." But it was him who created more distance between the two of them by taking a few more tottering steps to the wall. He crashed against it with his shoulder, turned around and started up an impressive stream.

"Riiiight," Lois breathed. "I'll just…take a look around."

Lex didn't respond. She looked away from him and gazed about the room. Apart from the gurney and a few steel tables containing syringes and scalpels and other things she didn't want to identify it was almost empty. It looked a little bit like the sparest of operating rooms. _Or, _she thought uneasily, _like a torture chamber._ She cast a glance back at Lex. He was still passing water, his back towards her, but she remembered his chest…

"Lex," she said, suddenly weak with horror, "where is Chloe?"

"Not here," he husked back. "I'm not sure. I think I might have an idea. Need to talk to a couple of people." Finished, he zipped up and turned to face her, swaying. His teeth were chattering; he gave a dry cough.

"Christ," Lois cursed, shocked despite her dislike of the man and her fear for her cousin. "What the hell did they do to you?"

Lex pulled his shirt together with convulsively shaking hands, covering his bloody chest. He was quite unable to push the buttons through the slits, though, and it fell open when he released both sides again. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked, and she had no doubt he'd have sounded arrogant and sarcastic if his voice still had any inflexion. "Do you have any water with you? Oh, wait…" He made his way to the crude steel table against the wall. There was a small tap on one side of the table. But before he could turn the tap his eye fell on something else and he gave a hoarse, triumphant crow.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," he muttered, and transported the rubber string from his right arm to his left. He slapped his flat palm on the inside of his elbow. Before she knew what he was up to he had picked up one of the prepared syringes and, ignoring the unsteadiness of his fingers, jabbed it into the vein in his elbow.

"Lex! What the fuck are you doing?"

Lex closed his eyes, released his breath with a whoosh of relief. "I am," he said with that infuriating slow drawl of his, "shooting up."

"And that takes preference over replenishing lost fluids?" She snatched the needle out of his hand—a hand that had stopped shaking. He was still swaying on his feet and leaning heavily on the table, but when he opened his eyes again they were a hell of a lot more focused.

"Oh hell yes." He loosened the string and observed the table. Lois followed his gaze. One more small syringe vial lay on the top, next to an open box containing five clean needles in plastic foil. Lex casually picked up both vial and box, closed the latter and shoved the whole handful in his pocket. Spread out on white cloth were the scalpels and knives that made Lois furtively glance at Lex's chest and bite her lip to keep from interrogating him about those cuts. He'd been sliced up from his collar bones to where his pants pressed against his stomach, with a few deep gashes over his breast bone and a group of overlapping ones on his stomach. Where the other cuts had healed and the blood had dried, the ones over his chest were still open, if not bleeding. The waistband of his jeans (jeans?) was crusted with a reddish brown. She hoped to god whoever had done this had not taken his fancy fetish all the way down and given him a second circumcision. By his calm, they probably hadn't. She really hoped so. The man was a grade A asshole, but not even Lois wished him maimed.

"What's the date?" he rasped, and she stopped her gawking.

"What? It's Friday. Eh, the fifth," she added, when his lip pulled up in a snarl. "The fifth of February."

"The fifth…One week. Less than a week. God." He started to cough again.

She turned the tap on the side of the table. It sputtered for a while, then ejected a stream of water before dwindling to a trickle. Lex cupped his hand underneath the trickle and gulped down several handfuls before the water ran out, and finally wiped his hands on the back of his pants.

Lois, in the meantime, drifted to the other side of the room, where a few steps led to a thick metal door. She tried to open it, but it was locked. After a few useless attempts, she decided to stop looking like a moron and went back to where Lex was ruffling through the scalpels. He had put one in his shirt's breast pocket. She wanted to ask him why on earth he was collecting scalpels all of a sudden, but decided she didn't want to know. Who knew, he might be right looking for weapons.

"Got anything to eat on you?" Already his voice was more powerful, if no less hoarse.

"Answers first," she said, but Lex shook his head.

"No. We don't have time to indulge in these kind of games."

He might have a point. Still, she wasn't ready to concede that to him, even if she did pat her behind to find out where she'd left that honey, nuts and raisins bar. "Where is Chloe?"

"I have no idea. She isn't here. I told you that before. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

"I'm saving your bloody life!"

Lex ignored that statement but for a small, bitter smile that briefly tipped up the corners of his mouth. He rolled his shoulder, wincing. "Where'd you come from? I didn't know there was a door at the back of the room."

"Well, there is. I don't recommend using that as an exit, though," Lois said. She dug into her right back pocket and pulled out a thoroughly squashed granola bar. "There was a small army of Chinese men with knives following me."

"I see how that helps saving my bloody life," Lex said sarcastically. He held out his hand for the bar, using his other hand to lean on the gurney. Lois glared at him. Lex rolled his eyes. "Lois. Over the past week I've been tortured, tied up and starved. Are you going to give that to me or do you want me to…" He paused to cough, "…beg for it?"

She thrust the bar into his hand. "You could stop being an asshole."

"You could start answering my questions." He tore at the paper wrapper. "Is Clark here? When I called him I specifically told him to come along."

"Yes, he's here. It took a while to convince my dad and Perry, but he came along. But why on earth…"

"He is? Good." He shook a lot of crumbles into his palm and wolfed them down. "Call him. I need him to get us out."

"Call Clark? But he…"

"You do have your phone with you, do you?" he asked exasperatedly, chewing. "Please don't tell me you don't have it with you."

"I do!" Lois snapped. "But why do you want Clark, of all people, to come and rescue you? I mean, even I have more experience…"

"Lane, you have no idea what you're talking about, so why don't you shut that yap of yours and get your phone out?"

She'd all but had it with him. _But, _she told herself, _I can be reasonable with someone who's just been tortured._ Just looking at him made her feel sick. The smell of urine and disinfectant combined with the damp stench of the basement didn't help.

"What's that stuff you just injected yourself with?"

"Something I've been injected with over the last few days," Lex said hoarsely. His pupils flared like a cat's in the semi-darkness. He licked the last crumbs from his fingers. "It's a long story. Just call him, will you?" Lois pulled out her phone, then stopped. "What is it now?"

"I have no idea where we are. I can hardly ask him to pull a Simon Templar on us if I can't send him to the place of derelict, can I?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Lex moaned. He held out his hand again. "Give it to me. I'll call him. I know where we are."

"Shouldn't we better ask him to call the consulate? I mean, we can get out if we…"

"There IS no consulate!" Lex said forcefully. His voice broke and he coughed again. "There is no embassy, no mayor, no police force we can trust, nothing! These people don't have any authority! Now give me the fucking phone or just call!"

With an inarticulate snarl, Lois called her trusty side-kick. He picked up after two rings.

"Lois? Where are you? Your dad's going ballistic!"

She winced for Clark's sake. The General was not a pleasant person to be around when plagued by worry. "I found Lex," she said.

"You did?!" There was far too much relief and joy in his voice. "Is he alright?"

"He's…" she started, then yelled in indignation as the phone was plucked out of her fingers.

"I'm fine," Lex told Clark. "But we're locked up and I need you to come and get us out."

She didn't hear Clark's reply, and Lex's side of the conversation was weird to say the least.

"As in a dungeon—well, a basement.

'No, we're actually in town. It's in that big mansion on the crossing of the Xingyong road…

'Yes, the one that ends at the Wang Lung hotel. That road and the one that leads up to the mountain.

'Yes. Like a phoenix.

'No, it's a phoenix. The man's NAME means phoenix, so it's a phoenix, not a peacock.

'Yes. I doubt we're anywhere close to the actual mansion but…

'No! Be careful, don't let them see you! I have no idea whether anyone's in but Lois mentioned armed people…I've been left here on my own for more than twenty-four hours and…" He heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes again. "No, Clark, Chloe isn't here. I'm quite sure of that. I think I know where she might be but…

'Ok. Be careful. Do you want to speak to Lois again?"

Lois didn't wait for Clark's reply and grabbed her cell out of his fingers. "Clark! What the hell are you up to? Look, talk to my dad, he'll arrange something and have us out of here in no time."

"Lois," Clark had that patient tone that meant he was up to something spectacularly stupid. "I'm already here. I'll see you in a few minutes, ok?" And then he hung up. He just hung up!

"That…IDIOT!" she exclaimed, and then she winced and hoped the idiot was right when he said he'd be there pretty soon when Lex clutched his stomach and chucked up the honeyed nuts and raisins he'd inhaled a few minutes ago. She could use some fresh air.

*

"You know," Clark said as he opened the big metal door up the steps exactly ten minutes later, "I could get used to NOT finding you soaked in blood after being summoned by phone."

Lex wormed two buttons of his red-stained shirt through the button holes, more or less covering himself up a little. "Soaked is a bit of an exaggeration," he quipped hoarsely. He shook off Clark's hand, instead choosing the wall to support him. Daylight shone through a narrow window. It made Lex look spectacularly unhealthy. His eyes were red-rimmed with purple half-moons beneath them—the kind of color that reminded Lois not of hysterical crying tantrums or sleepless nights but of bubonic plague—and the rest of his skin a sickly, pasty white. His stomach still seemed to bother him; occasionally he pressed his arm just below his ribs.

"What the hell did they do to you?"

"They took an interest in my healing abilities. Did you come alone?"

"Yes," said Clark, and that seemed to please Lex, although Lois couldn't figure out for the world why. She, herself, would have felt much more secure if Clark had come in the company of a few of her father's men. Lord knew she knew how to handle herself, but this was freaky. Not only the fact that she didn't understand the language and no single person in this shit hole knew how to speak English, but also because, Jeez, what kind of place was this anyway, if the locals treated the tourists to blades the moment they drifted away from the protection of the guided herd? The good thing was that there didn't seem to be anyone around to start following up on that strange Chinese tradition. The mansion, if that was what they were walking around in, seemed completely deserted.

_Good thing I found Lex. If I hadn't, he'd still be tied up in the basement and if there's no one around to feed or torture him he'd probably have died. Chloe wouldn't have liked that. _She felt a sharp pang of fear. If they'd tortured Lex, had they hurt her cousin too?

"Are you by car?" Something about Lex's gravelly voice upset her. She wondered how it got that way. Lack of water? Or screaming? Or both?

"No," Clark said, and the short look they shared seemed to tell both of them exactly what they needed to know. "Lois, why don't you call your dad to come and pick us up? I didn't see anyone outside, but I'd rather not walk outside if I can help it."

"You were walking here when I called you," she shot back accusatorily, already fumbling with her cell. Clark mumbled something unintelligible about 'being in the neighborhood' and 'sight-seeing'. She resolved to have a very firm chat with him as soon as they were back at the hotel. However, that could wait. She selected The General and called.

*

The world was like a huge, dry bathroom filled with bubbles. Speech emerged from Clark and Lois' mouths in echoing bubbles, audible only when the bubbles popped, and then he had to discern their meaning from the fireworks of sentences.

The sweats and the chills had largely diminished after his self-applied injection, but his stomach still heaved occasionally, and sent sharp pains all the way through his abdomen. The pain of the cuts was absent again. For that Lex was grateful. The pain had not been crippling but it stung and itched and burned over his chest bone, and now all he felt was the vaguest of pulling sensations. That, and the wholly different burn of the signature. He had to clench his fists to keep from taking the scalpel from his pocket and cutting those scars up until the characters were unrecognizable. Later.

Lois and Clark were arguing about something or other. Lex was too tired to try and make sense of their bubble conversation. The sunlight formed golden shafts on the walls; when his hands trailed across the warm stone he could feel it breathing behind the thin veneer of plaster. In the air thousands of tiny stars twirled and danced in the light.

He looked up as a large hand landed on his shoulder, both steadying and stopping him in place.

"Wait," bubbled Clark. "I'll see if it's safe. Lois, stay with him, will you."

"Sure, let me baby-sit the hallucinating billionaire," Lois grumbled, but she didn't move from his side.

"I really don't need baby-sitting," Lex croaked indignantly. The small sea urchin that was lodged in his throat set out its spikes, causing his voice to crack. He ignored it. Lois was right about one thing: he was hallucinating and the sea urchin was probably not real. He rubbed his throat. The only thing he could feel was his Adam's apple, and it didn't appear to have any spikes. "Where did you tell your father to pick us up? It might not be a good idea to drive up to the house. It's probably deserted for a reason."

Lois rolled her eyes. The white of her eyes was soft and runny. Lex had to hold himself back from putting his hands on her cheeks and wiping her eyes off them.

"Of course not. I told him to wait just around the corner. I'm not a total idiot, you know."

"I'm sure you're very clever," Lex said soothingly. If those runny eyes could have shot sparks he'd be lying smoldering on the floor. Red-tinted bubbles of anger drifted up from her ears. Women were never satisfied.

Clark reappeared, too fast to be believable but slow enough to fool silly creatures like his female partner. "It's safe. There's no one outside."

"But when I left the market there was this whole gang!" Lois protested. The bubbles coming from her mouth had scenes of West Side Story in them. Intrigued, Lex followed a few of them with his eyes before he could stop himself. Staring at what was probably nothing to the others might make it difficult to convince them he was okay, later. "Are you telling me they've just LEFT?"

"This isn't the side where you got in," Clark said. He gave Lex's arm a little pull. "If those thugs are anywhere it will be on the other side of the mansion, closer to the market. The basement's actually quite a long way from the entrance."

"Besides," Lex said, making sure he didn't speak in bubbles as well, "if they saw you get in they must have known that you wouldn't get out. They probably locked the door behind you."

"They did," Lois remembered. Lex raised his arms in a 'there, you see?' gesture, and she glared daggers at him. One of those daggers lodged into his stomach and made him gasp.

"You ok?" Clark asked as Lex hunched over and clasped both of his hands against his belly.

"Not…really." Sure, he could lie and say he was fine but the brutal truth was that he wasn't, and since Lois'd seen him vomit her precious nut bar he might just as well be honest. So far his stomach ache had only made him throw up. He desperately hoped it wouldn't go the other way, too. Now that was a kind of humiliation he could really do without.

"Do you want some Seven-up?" Before Lex could say anything Clark had shrugged his backpack from his back and taken out a half-full bottle. A blue genie was throwing itself against the plastic with howling frustration. "Here. You're probably dehydrated. How long've you been locked up there?"

"Without water?" Lex accepted the bottle. He wondered how he was to keep from drinking the genie right along with the soda. "Maybe twenty, twenty-four hours. Maybe a bit shorter. I don't know." He took a careful sip. When he next looked the genie was gone. Either he'd swallowed it or…ah, yes, it was another hallucination. He took another swallow. The lukewarm Seven-up tasted a hell of a lot better than the water from the tap in the basement. "Food's been a bit longer. Are we there yet? I don't recognize these halls."

Not much of a surprise, since he'd been more than halfway out when they brought him in.

"The front door's right around this corner," Clark said, casually steadying Lex as he reeled in a particular slippery patch of sunlight. "How long since you ate something?"

"Approximately fifteen minutes," Lex said, considering.

"Honey, nuts and raisins," Lois supplied. "Puked them right out again."

"My pardon if I appear ungrateful," Lex drawled as well as he could with his gritty throat. He waited until she started about the drugs. She did so right on cue.

"You're not ungrateful, you're a fucking junkie!"

"Not by choice," Lex argued, deciding to leave his addiction to Clark out of it for the time being.

"What!?" hissed Clark, but Lex gestured to the door.

"Let's get out of here first, shall we? Is the door secured? I wouldn't be surprised if it was rigged."

Clark gazed at the door, the walls, the ceiling. "I don't think so," he said, walked up to the door and opened it easily. Nothing exploded or fell down or started spewing gas; early afternoon light entered the hallway, together with a few dancing snowflakes and the happy chitter of the small birds in the hedge.

Lois grabbed Lex as he listed to the right. "Come on! Don't faint on me now!"

"I have no intention of fainting. I hear something."

"Cars," said Clark. "It's the General."

"How can you be sure?" Lois asked. She began to pull Lex down the steps outside, hauling him upright whenever he stumbled.

_He's probably heard them talk, _Lex thought. _Saw their bubbles. Or maybe he recognizes the sound of their car. God, you're so stupid. How can you not know these things about him? He isn't THAT good in keeping it secret._

He kept his mouth shut, though. Clark's secrets were his and Chloe's, not Lois'. Like hell was he ever going to include her.

"Get into the bushes!" she commanded as the roar of motors increased.

"Are you insane?" Lex asked pleasantly. He resisted her shoving hands. "I'm not going to hide from the rescuing party."

"What if it isn't your rescuing party?"

"It is," said Clark, and indeed, less than a minute later the General's rented Land rover (insisted upon by McCarthy to keep from antagonizing the Mayor) screeched to a halt around the corner.

"Move move move!" Lois barked militarily, and dragged Lex after her like a stuffed teddy bear, without consideration for balance, or him being upright or not. If Clark hadn't hoisted him to his feet and indeed, carried him for a few steps, she'd probably have lugged him after her over the ground. Not that she noticed.

Lex thought they must look very stupid crossing first the yard and then the street at a dead run while the entire neighborhood was deserted, especially with him flapping along like a flag.

He ended up in the loving embrace, or maybe not so loving but necessary embrace of General Lane, who shoved him into the Jeep without further ado. He shoved Clark in after Lex, and Lois after Clark, added one of his men for good measure, climbed back in the passenger seat and repeated after Lois: "Move move move!" as if they were robbing a bank or something.

Lex shivered in the draft of the open window. The General twisted around in his seat.

"Mister Luthor. Are you alright?" His bubbles were tinged with kaki. How fitting.

"I'm fine," Lex replied automatically, but Lois' army-influenced staccato overrode his cracked voice.

"He's cut up and probably dehydrated, but nothing that won't heal in a couple of days. But they've been drugging him and he should be taken to a hospital."

"Right," General Lane said, turning back to face the front window as if he were satisfied. "Joey? To the hospital. And where'd you keep those bottles of mineral water?"

"Excuse me," Lex rasped irritably. "I have no intention of going to the hospital."

"Son, you're…"

"And if you call me 'Son' again I'm getting out of this vehicle right now," he snapped. "You can keep your condescendence to yourself. You have NO idea what is going on here. I do. This whole town is involved in a war and I do NOT want to supply them with my blood and the reaction of my blood to their chemicals."

"You just injected a healthy dose of those chemicals into your body," Lois said.

"And you can take your observational genius and hang it from a tree," Lex snarled back. "I'm not going to the hospital. Or do you want Chloe to die?"

There was a ten-second silence, and then the General growled, "What, exactly, do you mean by that, Mister Luthor? Where is my cousin?"

"I don't know. But I think I know how to find out. We need to go back to the hotel. Discretely." He sneered. "Do you think that would be possible?"

The general blew out a school of gold fish. They swam around the jeep for a while, drifting in the cold air stream of the air conditioning before disappearing through the ceiling. Lex followed them until the last one was gone, closed his eyes and dreamed of sea otters waltzing with toast and marmalade.

*

They smuggled Lex back into the hotel in Joey's army shirt and cap and insisted on him sitting down so the General could have a look at him and assess the damage. He sent both his daughter, Joey and Clark out of the room for Mister Luthor's privacy, although it was quite clear he didn't give a rat's ass about Mister Luthor's privacy or, indeed, anything concerning Mister Luthor at all. Lex did not improve matters by smirking acerbically and using a very clear sarcastic tone whenever he spoke. Whatever the drugs had done to him, they certainly interfered with his usual self-control.

When McCarthy hurried into the room to check on his employer's son, his mouth dropped open in shock. "Lex."

"Brian." Lex smirked. He dropped down into a chair and slapped at the General's hands as they reached for the box in his breast pocket. "So he sent you. I shouldn't be surprised."

"What happened to you?"

"That's what I would like to know," General Lane agreed. "And what happened to Chloe Sullivan."

"Give him some time to pull himself together!" McCarthy hissed, handing Lex a glass of water. "Christ, man, you look like hell on a stick."

"I'll be fine," Lex rasped, but Lane agreed and said, "Let's see if that's true, shall we?"

After the most superficial of examinations the General came to the same conclusion as his daughter: Mister Luthor was painfully cut up but not dangerously so, he was in dire need of a shower, food and water and twelve hours of sleep in a soft bed, but that was nothing a day of TLC couldn't cure. What worried him, he said to McCarthy in a whisper Clark could easily follow from where he was sitting next to Lois in an adjourning room, was the younger man's mental stability. General Lane had no idea how badly Lex's fragile psyche had been messed up by his latest kidnapping experience.

Neither could he judge just how badly the drugs in Lex's system affected him, since he refused to describe its effects in detail. All he said was that he was a bit woozy and very, very hungry. He acted rationally enough; rational enough to annoy the hell out of General Lane. But his pupils were the size of dollars, and he didn't like the way Luthor's eyes looked at him. Could Luthor's reasoning be trusted at all? Or should they ship him back to his dad before he could break down altogether? If Chloe's life hadn't depended on it, he'd have put Luthor under and wouldn't let him wake up until he was safely back home and in the hospital.

Clark sighed. _How comforting it is, _he thought with a cynicism he was not familiar with, _to know that prejudice isn't solely practiced by farmers and small-town folk._ Although really, he sympathized with Lois' dad. Lex was a difficult person to like once you'd started hating him, and almost impossible to like when he was in a foul mood and didn't keep his emotions in check. Even the way he drank glass after glass of water sounded insulting. As his voice mended the drawl alone was enough to make Clark want to grind his molars until the creaking drowned out the sound.

"Do you want any more water, Lex?"

"No, thank you, General Lane. I'd like a scotch, if that is possible."

"That's probably not a good idea. How's your stomach?"

"Currently it's full of water."

"Are you still sick?"

"Oh, that. No, sir." Lex had a way of pronouncing the honorific as belittling. "It was probably just a reaction after fasting for a while."

"Do you think you could handle something light? Like soup?"

"I was more thinking along the lines of bread and marmalade."

"Wouldn't that be too heavy?"

"General, could you please stop pretending you're a doctor? You're wasting my time and Chloe's as well."

"Mister Luthor. I'm TRYING to…"

"And you're failing. Stop bothering, it's embarrassing. There are three things that I want, sir, and in that order. I want you to find a man called Feng Lao. He works at this hotel. You must have met him, since he's one of the few people here who has a bit of English. He's some kind of…bell boy, I guess. He also delivers room service to tourists. I'm quite sure he's still here, at the hotel. If he isn't…well, then we'll see. For the moment, I'd appreciate it if you found him and brought him here."

Clark heard him swallow more water.

"I need to talk to him."

"Does he know where Chloe is?"

"Maybe," said Lex. There was a short silence, then the General opened the door and asked Joey to come in.

"Why him, and not me?" Lois growled, but she kept sitting where she was, and Clark tried to follow the conversation in the other room while filtering out the grumbling next to him.

Joey was told to find Feng Lao and take him to Mister Luthor's room. Lex, surprised, asked if it wasn't taken by anyone else already, but the General told him no. Not a thing had been disturbed since Lex's unexpected check-out. Joey left on his mission. Lex went on listing his wishes.

"The second thing I want is a shower and a change of clothes. If my possessions have not been stolen from my room I am all for going there and doing precisely that. And thirdly, I want something to eat. Bread and marmalade. Toast and Chivers, to be precise."

"What about your father," McCarthy spoke up.

"He can wait," Lex said indifferently. "Call him yourself, if you want to." His chair slid over the rug with a soft whisper. "General. My thanks for saving me. Now help me save your cousin. Please let me know when you've found Feng Lao."

"Mister Luthor," the General started, but Clark was distracted by Lois as she nudged his shoulder.

"What are you thinking about, Smallville? Or are you still jetlagged?"

"Uh…"

Lois' half-annoyed, half-teasing expression sobered. "We'll find her, you know. Whether he cooperates or not."

"Lex wants to find her too, Lois."

She snorted. At that very moment the object of her derision stalked out of the room, carefully overlooked her and caught Clark's eye. He was walking a lot more steadily, and while he would never win a contest for 'Beach Boy of the Year', the alarming purple shadows under his eyes had more or less faded to a more normal exhausted dark. Then his head turned and he faced Lois with a polite, empty smile.

"I'd almost forgotten to thank you for getting me off that stretcher."

"You're welcome," Lois muttered hostilely, and that made him smile wider. He gave her a mocking little bow.

"You'd better go with him," the General spoke up from behind them. "I don't expect anything to happen here, but you never know." He gestured with the cell phone he held in his hand. "Pilow will meet you at his room. Your toast," he shot Lex a sneer that was almost a perfect mirror of Lex's own, "is coming right up. If this Feng Lao character's still around, I'm sure we'll know within the next five, ten minutes or so."

"I'd better hurry, then," Lex said. "Much obliged, sir." Another stiff nod, and he was out of the room and into the hall; Clark and Lois hurried after him.

TBC


	14. Chapter 13

Heyhey!

Explanations that unfortunately do not clear things up at all! I'm having a hard time making sense of it all myself, at times…

Still…as always, thanks for the reviews, and the next one should be in only a few days—I hope before Christmas!

Thirteen: Lex Takes Charge

Lex was standing in the bathroom of his hotel room—the same bathroom where he'd thought his girlfriend must be related to a lobster, only about a week ago—and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He had stripped completely and had stuffed everything he'd worn but his shoes into the tiny bathroom dustbin. There was no way he would ever wear those clothes again, even if repeated washing COULD get the blood stains and the stench of pain, fear and madness out of them. He had brought fresh clothes, taken from the closet where he'd put them two weeks ago. That action: entering his room, gathering clean underwear, a shirt, pants and socks…that had been so surreal. As was standing in this bathroom, with half of his mind still tied up in the basement.

_Don't zone out. Don't lose yourself. You only have a couple of minutes._ He shook himself, pressed one hand palm against the cold glass. Somehow, he had the idea that if he pushed hard enough, he'd be able to burst through the thin layer on top and drag his reflection out by the wrist.

That pathetic, pale, cut-up reflection.

He closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against his reflection's. Somehow, he thought he should be more shaken, but he wasn't. He was very calm—Phoenix Fire calm. The whole situation seemed more amusing than stressing.

Still, this is not the time to dawdle, Lionel's voice spoke sternly in the back of his mind. Shower. Remove the signature. Talk to Feng Lao. Move.

He stepped into the shower, almost moaning aloud when the hot water started beating down on his stiff shoulders. He wanted nothing more than curl his overtaxed spine into a semi-circle and stay under the hot water for an hour, but there simply wasn't time for that now. He may have been found, but Chloe was still out there.

_I was found. _In the most absurd, coincidental way possible. Lex, who didn't believe in coincidences, had a hard time believing Lois Lane, of all people, had just managed to 'stumble upon him'. He had a hard time accepting that he was free, period. What if this was another one of Fu Yang's tricks? Another hallucination?

_Doubtful_, he thought, as he soaped himself up. _Hallucinations rarely include bath foam._ His paranoia swirled away with the rest of his thoughts and the soap suds, down the drain. He scrubbed his torso until the fresher cuts started to bleed again, rinsed thoroughly, stepped out of the shower and toweled himself off. White towels. When he patted his belly dry, they showed Fu Yang's signature mirrored in red.

_That won't do._

He picked up and carefully cleaned the scalpel he had taken with him from the basement. The remaining vial and the needles he had hidden in the cupboard under the sink, but the scalpel had been lying here waiting on the basin ever since he entered. With five short, sure movements, he crossed out the hated name, pressed the already stained towel against the wounds until they stopped bleeding, and tossed the towel on top of the heap of clothes. No pain, none whatsoever. Being high did have its advantages.

He could still see the characters through the prison bars he'd drawn over them, but at least they didn't burn anymore. Lex Luthor did not belong to anyone. He put on his pants and was starting on his shirt when he realized that he'd get it stained again. Those cuts needed to be bandaged. Ah well. He'd ask Lois. Let her fuss. Didn't women like that? Fussing over damaged men? She probably wouldn't.

He stared at the mirror again, noticed his own deranged grin and forced it back.

_Control. Peace._ People needed to think he was fine. He was fine, now. Calm. Collected. He should be, so he could find Chloe and get out of this place. He could always break down later. Lex kneaded his features to a semblance of normalcy, tucked his shirt under his arm and left the safety of the bathroom.

*

Fifteen minutes after entering his room Lex, clean, clad in clean slacks, sat cross-legged on his bed, munching toast with marmalade, while Lois rather sloppily spread disinfectant cream over the cuts on his chest and stomach (many of which, now they were clean, turned out to be little more than mostly-healed scratches). She hesitated a few seconds at the fresh, plasma-dribbling cuts he had made in the bathroom, neatly crossing out Fu Yang's signature, looked up at him and, as he looked down on her with his best If-you-talk-to-me-about-this-I-will-tear-out-your-tongue expression, silently lathered the cuts with salve and finally covered them up with a few layers of gauze and tape.

"You must be glad you don't have chest hair," she said, biting off another strip.

"Absolutely," Lex drawled. He was still a bit hoarse, but his voice had mended enough to make his sarcasm into something approaching opera skills.

Clark, sitting in a chair, wished they would stop bitching already. It wasn't like Lex to rise to every challenge. And it wasn't like Lois to keep worrying at someone like that. The both of them were so high-strung they were on the point of snapping and hitting the other in the eye.

Lex gazed down on the tape-and-bandage art on his torso. "You know," he continued, "I wasn't planning on hanging piano's from that bandage. Don't you think it's secure now?"

"We don't want it to flap loose, do we?" Lois replied rhetorically, and added another five inches.

Lex snorted. A few seconds later she proclaimed her nurse's work finished, though, and Lex immediately shrugged into a clean white shirt, buttoning it up until the bandage could no longer be seen. His bruised wrists (he studied those with a weird, twisted smile) were visible, but he made no move to do up the buttons of his cuffs. Apparently his need to cover up his weaknesses did not go that far.

His toast finished, he sauntered to the mini bar in the corner, took out a small bottle of whiskey and poured two inches into a thick-bottomed glass. He sipped from it with obvious pleasure.

"Yeah, that's a REALLY good idea," Lois scoffed. "How are you going to save Chloe if you're not only doped up but drunk as well?"

Lex shrugged, not deigning her outburst with an answer.

Clark sighed. He turned his head, watched the man he had once called friend breathe in the fumes of the alcohol, eyes closed, cheeks regaining a hint of color that wasn't brought on by the heat of a shower, and wondered on whose side he should be. Lois was right: it probably wasn't a good idea for Lex to drink liquor. Who knew what it would do in combination with the stuff inside his body that made his blood rush like that? Then again, if it calmed him down…Lex had been soothing his nerves with brandy for as long as Clark had known him. He probably knew what he was doing. Besides, it was a really small bottle.

Clark started as all of a sudden, Lex put down his whiskey glass, walked over to where Clark was sitting and, bending over the back of his chair, softly said, "Bugs."

"W-what?"

"Bugs. Check for bugs."

Clark had already obediently scanned the room—and damned if he didn't see one pulsing in the lamp in the ceiling—before his self-esteem caught up with him and old hackles rose in response to the command. "You know, the English language has a great many words you could use to express politeness or form a question."

"What?" Lois asked from the bed. She rubbed her hands together. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Nothing," said Lex with a glower at Clark. "Well?" he hissed—which still wasn't polite, but Clark decided to give the man some leniency since he still looked so very shitty. He nodded. "Where? How many?"

"Just one, as far as I can see," Clark mumbled back.

Lois got up, still rubbing her hands—Lex smiled and patted his chest. She shot him an annoyed glance and went to wash her hands in the bathroom.

"Can you destroy it?" Lex asked the moment the water began to run.

"I think so. It might warn them, though. I don't know if it's a listening device or some sort of camera."

"I don't care. If they're still in use they know something's wrong anyway. Quick," he looked at the bathroom.

Clark glanced up at the ceiling, at the simple, expensive-looking lamp, and fried the tiny electric circuit hidden away in the lamp fitting with his left eye. It gave a tiny ping, so soft not even Lex heard it, and stopped sending signals. "Done." He scanned the room again, but no other transmitter was hidden away anywhere he could see and hear it. "Nope. That's it."

"Thanks."

Lois returned, wiping her hands on the back of her pants. She shot Lex another glance, this time it was tinged with something like sympathy, or concern. "I'll ask for some clean towels," she said. Lex shrugged, drifted back to his whiskey. Lois sat down on the bed, legs crossed, one foot dangling. They all started slightly as the door opened and the General poked his head inside.

"We have him," he said. "Your mister Lao."

"Excellent." Lex finished his drink in one big swallow. "Please bring him in."

General Lane nodded, but kept standing in the doorway for a moment, taking in Lex, his daughter, her reporter friend. "Fine. But let's not turn this into more of a circus than we have to. Lois, Clark, out."

"But…!" Lois said, almost automatically. Her stop after the protest was just as mechanical, as was the General's arched eyebrow. She might bluff him on the airport, but not while he was in command. Clark, secure in the knowledge that as long as he was on the same floor, he could listen in on what went on between these four walls, had already gotten up. Challenging authority rarely got him anywhere. He'd much rather give them the impression he was doing what they wanted and go do the Right Thing behind their oblivious backs.

Lex murmured something. No one but Clark heard what he said—no one even noticed him speaking. Clark did. Lex said, "Come back when this interrogation's finished."

One again, Clark gave a minimal nod of understanding and left the room with Lois, who was now positively fuming.

In the hallway they passed Joey, a sergeant called Thompson and another soldier, who stood, almost at ease, around a small, slender Chinese man. McCarthy leaned against the wall a few steps back. If he hadn't moved to shake a cigarette out of his holder, Clark might have mistaken him for Thompson's shadow.

"Hey," Lois said, "That's the same guy I talked to this morning. He was the one who told me that the market was dangerous." She studied the man's impassive Asian features with interest. If Feng Lao recognized her as well, he gave no notice of it.

_Hard not to recognize a girl like Lois, _Clark thought. _Especially in a place like this. _ It wasn't exactly crawling with tall, brown-haired, big-chested young women. But he said nothing and quietly got into the room on the other side of the hall—Lois' room. He absentmindedly checked it for bugs and fried a chip hidden away in her bedside light. _Note to self: clean every room in this hotel. Later._ Again, he settled down and tried to follow the conversation taking place in Lex's room.

*

"Listen here, Luthor," the General was saying. Lex snapped back to the present. "I don't want an international scandal on my hands. No violence. No physical intimidation. If the man won't talk I'll take him into custody but my powers are limited at the moment. I don't want to end up court-marshaled because you broke the law, you got that?"

"Crystal, General."

The General blinked. Lex tried to smooth out his mocking smirk. Usually he had no trouble at all keeping his thoughts to himself, but the Phoenix Fire screwed with his senses, and he wasn't sure he was keeping his expressions in check.

"Mister Luthor…"

"I won't hurt him. If I do, you can apprehend _me_. But I won't. I just need to ask him a few questions."

"I hope McCarthy can translate everything quickly enough." The General, no matter how impressed with the excellent Brian McCarthy (who was a hell of a lot more impressive than Lane could possibly give him credit for), still desperately missed an interpreter he could command. He probably missed having his HQ, too. Hotel rooms, especially ones furnished as copiously as Lex's, were not intimidating enough.

Lex smoothed out another smirk with his fingers. "If he refuses to speak English, my Chinese is good enough to comprehend him." The cynical set of Lane's mouth told him that that was exactly what the good General didn't like about the situation. Tough shit for him. Lex put his hands in his pockets, beginning to get impatient. "Can we please…"

"Yes," said the General. He raised his voice. "Joey? Bring him in."

When Feng Lao saw Lex, his eyes widened slightly, but that was his only reaction. He regarded both Lex and the General with the same cool indifference as he had their suitcases when he brought them up.

"Hello, Feng Lao," Lex said silkily. Feng kept quiet. "Please sit down."

Joey, at the door, moved from his place to pull a chair from the table and put it just behind the bell boy. For a moment, Feng Lao considered; then he concluded there was little refusing to be seated would accomplish, and sat down on the edge of the seat. McCarthy and Thompson also filed into the room to take their places. Feng Lao did not look at either of them. His eyes were on Lex, cool and steady…but his fingers twisted into the chair's pillowed seat.

Lex didn't mind him being scared, but he didn't want Feng to be scared of _him_. Or for whatever or whoever he was fearing for in the first place. He switched to Chinese without further ado.

"When I saw you the last time, after you opened the door to my room when Chloe'd taken the key with her, you told me that 'they heard' or 'they saw'." Feng Lao gave a minimal nod. McCarthy translated Lex's words, quietly, to the General, who frowned. Lex turned his back on him and concentrated completely on the man in front of him. "It's gone. I had it removed before you came in. They don't know what you're saying. So I'm…please, tell me what I want to know."

A surprised murmur from General Lane.

"How can you be sure?" Feng Lao asked.

"I have an instrument that detects bugs." _It's name is Clark_. "It is highly effective. The listening device is gone. You can speak freely."

The man's fingers dug further into the seat. His sad face twisted with indecision.

"What are you afraid of?" Lex asked softly, switching to English for the benefit of the General. "I know you can help me. You already did—it was you who sent Lois to Fengfei's Mansion, wasn't it? Did you know they'd taken me there?"

The man said nothing, but gave another tiny nod. Lex wished he had time to ask him what exactly was going on, but even though he was still as cool as a fish in the fridge, he felt as if time was slipping by at an alarming rate.

"Feng Lao. You know what's going on. I mean to stop it. I want to get Chloe back. You were willing to help me earlier, when things got…This time, I can actually offer you something in return." He made a gesture that encompassed the few soldiers present—although they meant nothing. Lex's real army was sitting a few rooms down the hall. "The means to put a stop to whatever's going on in this town."

Feng Lao's mouth opened, then closed. He looked away from Lex's face, to his knees.

"Please," said Lex. He pointed at a chair and McCarthy pulled it away from the table and pushed it towards Lex. He sat down, undoing the difference in height, bringing them to the same level. The sky was cloudy, and it was windy; the light/shadow from the windows stuttered on Feng Lao's slumped figure. "I want to get her back. Please help me get her back. Tell me where she is."

With a jerk, Feng Lao raised his head. The sadness had left his face; his eyes were burning. "They have my wife and daughter," he said, in English as well. His voice was soft but desperate. "If I talk, if I expose, they give _Fèng__huáng__huǒ_ to my daughter."

_Ah, _thought Lex. _So that's it. Of course, it makes sense. Clever way to keep people obedient._

Feng Lao was still talking. "I won't risk my daughter life," he said. "I'm Sorry. I want to help. I do. I liked miss Surrivan. But I don't know much, and what I know, if I tell, I risk daughter. I won't exchange your girl for my own."

"You won't risk anything if they don't know you've spoken to us."

"Your room not only place to be watched," Feng Lao said stubbornly. His mouth thinned. "Maybe they already think I talked." He shot to his feet. "You have to let me go. They think I talk, they shoot up Lei."

"No," said Lex. He didn't move from his chair. Phoenix Fire filled his head with calm. He knew exactly what to do. "Sit down. Listen to me." He switched back to Chinese. After a few sentences, Feng Lao sat back down as well. "You're right, if they want to hurt your family, they will. And if they get the idea that you have talked to us, they might. So, we have to make sure that they won't find out, or at least get fed the wrong information. This room is safe. I swear it to you. And I'll swear something else: I'll get your wife and daughter out. Do you know where they are?"

Feng said nothing, but his nostrils flared like a pony's.

"Are they at the same place where you think they took Miss Sullivan?"

A nod.

"So you do know where they are."

"Not precisely. I just have an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"Do you promise…do you give your word you will rescue my wife and daughter as well? Han Meiying and Zhang Lei?"

"Yes. You have my word. I'll get them out."

"Luthor," Sam Lane warned softly as McCarthy's translation reached his ears, but Lex ignored him.

"Tell me."

"I can't tell you anything definite. If I had known where they were exactly I'd have tried to get them out myself. All I have is guesses and suspicions." He took a deep breath. When he spoke again it was as if he were reciting a legend. "'Once upon a time the Buddha gazed down upon the valley, protecting a temple that housed an ancient power only to be bestowed on those ready to give up their lives for Buddha. The power was intended to save the valley from war. It was kept deep in the bowels of the earth, in a temple below a temple, and only those who were initiated in the ways of the Buddha were able to pass the many traps and dangers, and safely reach the heart of the temple, which was as far away from the face of it as a man's head on a man's body.'" He gave a short nod. "That is where they must be."

"In the temple?" Lex asked incredulously. "There's a temple below the ruins?" Maybe he should get himself a hat and a whip.

"Yes." The utter sincerity in Feng Lao's voice wiped the sneer from his face. "The second temple. Its existence is a fact, not a legend. What is a legend, is the entrance to the heart of the temple. What I just told you was written down AFTER the temple was ruined, and AFTER the second temple was erected. It is said that Buddha's back is to the entrance. And I," he sighed, "have never been able to find it."

"But you think the Phoenix Gang did find it?" Lex asked.

Feng Lao frowned. "The Phoenix Gang is a band of silly kids who flaunt their tattoos and play dangerous games," he said curtly. "It is those who operate under their name, who use their foolish innocence as a cover that are dangerous, and who turned the Temple people into the thugs they are now."

"Wait," the General interrupted as soon as McCarthy had translated the last bit. "What on earth is he talking about? Is he saying the Phoenix Gang doesn't exist?" He shook himself. "Never mind. It isn't important right now. He said something about a Buddha. Now, as far as I understand it there are two important Buddha's in this town. Which one is he talking about?"

And at that moment Lex knew where he needed to look, or at least thought he knew where he needed to look. "Which Buddha?" he asked, trying in vain to keep the excitement out of his voice and his eyes lidded. "The first or the second?" He needed to play this very carefully, or he wouldn't be able to get into the temple without having to fight his way through Lane and his soldier boys.

"The one in…" Feng Lao started, but Lex repeated quickly, "The first or the second?"

"The first, I'd think," Feng Lao said. "The other was only put there after…"

Lex turned to the General. "I think I know where we can find the entrance. It's in the mountains." He turned back to Feng Lao and read confusion, but also a desperate desire to trust Lex in his eyes. He held out his hand. "I'll get them out, your daughter and your wife," he promised again. "Han Meiying and Zhang Lei, right? How old is your daughter?" Feng Lao told him the girl was 5, and gave him a short description of both his wife and daughter. "I'll get them out," Lex said. "Trust me." He used his own name instead of the pronoun in Chinese for 'me' to make sure that Feng Lao understood that it was him, Lex Luthor, who was to be trusted, and not the green-clad army men he was about to send on a wild goose chase. He had his reasons to want to have Lane and his men out of his way.

Feng Lao gave a hesitant nod. He put his hand in Lex's, returned the squeeze.

"Good," said Lex. He got up. His movements were jerky and too quick, but he made no effort to appear in control. "General. We need to make sure that people get the idea that Feng Lao has not betrayed anything to us, to assure the safety of his family members."

Sam Lane nodded. "I'll take him into custody and make sure people are aware we are not pleased to have found out nothing from him."

"Thank you. Now we need…"

"I'd like you to tell me where this Buddha in the mountains is," Lane took over command. For once, Lex let him. "And we need to know more about this underground temple—even if it's only legend," he added to Feng Lao. The Chinese nodded. "I assume they'll have it guarded?"

"I…I think so," Feng said helplessly, in Chinese that McCarthy translated with eerie rapidness. "I don't know. Like I said, I have concluded that that is the place where my wife and child are kept, but I know nothing concrete."

"How did you know Mister Luthor here was held captive at the Fengfei Mansion and not with them?"

"One…one of our kitchen staff," Feng Lao stuttered in English, confused by the sudden change of both subject and language. "He is…He wears gray. He mention Mansion."

"Did you tell my daughter to go there?"

"Daughter?" Feng repeated weakly. He leaned back in his chair, away from the General. But Lane suddenly grinned, shrugged, and said, "Ah well, she returned safely. And she did get him out. Now, Feng Lao. You mentioned something about…what was it? Traps and dangers. I assume that literally means that the temple is booby-trapped."

"Booby…Traps, or trials, or riddles. Yes."

"Right. How long will it take us to get to that Buddha?"

Feng Lao glanced at Lex. Lex said, "On foot, about three hours. On horseback, about two."

"Horseback?" sputtered Joey.

"Well, pony. Believe me, you need a horse. It's too steep and too far to walk, and too rocky for a truck. There are special mountain ponies you can rent, and a woman who can guide you there. Her name is Zhen. I have her card right…"

"I'd much rather not involve the civilians," the General objected.

Lex jumped in immediately. "I could…"

"No. You're staying here, together with my daughter and the Kent boy," Lane barked. "I'd leave one of my men with you, but I need every one of them, so I suggest you simply stay together in one room, or, even better, stick with that Shanyuang guy and his body guards."

"But I…" Lex protested weakly.

"No civilians in military missions," Lane cut him off. He pointed at Feng Lao. "Joey? Take him to room 213 and make sure you're displeased with the results, but don't overdo it. Thompson? Get the truck. And see if you can get a map. McCa…Mister McCarthy. I'd appreciate it if you came along with us for translator purposes. I will not take you inside a hostile temple, but I will need someone to interpret for me."

McCarthy nodded. He gave Lex a considering glance, as if he knew the younger man was up to something, but Lex pretended to zone out and look like a spaced-out addict—which, in some ways, he was—and McCarthy left the room with Joey and Feng Lao.

"What time is it now?" the General wondered aloud. It reminded Lex that he needed another watch. "Almost one. Three until we get there. Perhaps we should await the cover of night. No. I don't want to climb unknown mountains in the dark." He muttered some more to himself, then suddenly drew himself out of his thoughts and sized Lex up. "Will you be alright here by yourself?"

"Of course, Sir." _I've got Clark, don't I?_

"Right. I'll notify Shanyuang and his bodyguards. We'll be leaving in a couple of minutes."

"Don't bother, Sir," said Lex. "I'll phone them. We'll be alright. Will you let us know when you've found Chloe?"

"Naturally." He fished another cigar stub from his chest pocket and stalked out of the room, pausing only to tell Lex he wanted a detailed report of all that had happened to him when he came back, to which Lex nodded docilely.

When the General was gone, Lex sat down in his chair, blowing out a long breath. When he closed his eyes, crazy patterns unfolded against his eyelids. Now the interview was over and the first stage of his plan completed, his blood pounded in his temples, distorting the patterns at the sides of his face. He put his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees.

First objective: completed. The army had left and it was unlikely they'd come back early and spoil his further plans.

Now for the second objective: Localize Chloe Sullivan and take her back—her, and Feng Lao's wife and child; Lex had given his word for that, after all. "Han Meiying and Zhang Lei," he said aloud.

"Who's that?" Clark asked, making Lex jump in surprise. He hadn't heard him come in.

"People we need to save."

"General Lane and his men, and McCarthy as well have left, or will leave, soon," Clark said. He sat down on the chair Feng Lao had vacated. "Lois thinks I'm in my room. We have both unanimously decided that we will not huddle with the Chinese businessmen, so that gives me some freedom." He tapped his fingers on his thighs. "I didn't understand half of what that Feng Lao character told you—why on earth did you speak Chinese to him?"

"Because it would make him trust me. And because Lane doesn't."

"Ah. I see. You set him up somehow."

Lex nodded. "Yes, I did."

Clark blinked. "You…you actually did? You set him up? Feng Lao?"

"No. General Lane."

Clark goggled at him, not as much disapproving as simply disbelieving.

"Well," Lex considered, "maybe that's a bit much to say. Rather…I willingly mislead him. I sent him in the wrong direction. To the wrong temple," he explained, when Clark still stared at him as if he'd grown horns. "Or rather, the wrong Buddha."

"But…" Clark said. "The way I understood it, Chloe is being kept in an underground temple, right, and didn't Feng Lao say that it was the statue in the mountains that guarded the entrance?"

Lex smiled to himself. _Lex, my boy, you haven't lost your touch._ "No," he said evenly. "He didn't say that. I did. Because it's not the statue in the mountains that guards the entrance."

"No? Then what…The other Buddha statue? The one in the village?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Feng Lao just told me."

"Then why didn't you…"

"I am not going to risk Chloe's life by letting a bunch of army idiots set off every trap leading towards her!"

Clark looked at him with his mouth open. "Then why need the army at all, if you don't want them to help you? You specifically asked…"

"To bring you in!" Lex exclaimed. He lowered his voice with difficulty. "It's hard to get someone into China at short notice, especially to a retarded place like this. It takes time! I didn't have that time. _Chloe_ didn't have that time! I needed you in as quickly as possible and I knew that if ANYONE could get in here, it'd be the army. And General Lane would use his influence because Chloe's his cousin."

"You've thought it all out, haven't you?" The disgust in Clark's face was strangely softened by his obvious admiration. "You thought it out even when you were on the run."

"Yes," Lex said tightly. "That's the way you work, too. You call the police when you think they can handle it, but when you know they can't, you just act. On your own. With your own weapon: those powers of yours. Well, this time _you_ are my weapon, and I needed someone to bring you in."

"What if Lane hadn't agreed to take me with him?"

"Then I'd have let him do his best. Thankfully, he didn't leave you behind."

Clark exhaled through his nose, but he still hadn't called Lex a liar and a selfish manipulator, and that, Lex decided, could only be good. He was right. "I don't agree with your way of thinking." Clark pulled a face as if he'd been sucking lemons, but he continued, "But you're right. I'll go and…"

"_We_ will go. I'm coming with you."

"Lex, you're hardly in any condition to invade an ancient, booby-trapped temple."

"You are not going alone."

"Lex…"

"Stop parroting my name. I'm coming with you. I don't know how big that temple is, and if she's even still there. We might need to speak to people…coerce some information out of someone. Your Chinese, as far as I know, isn't exactly adequate. And there's Feng Lao's family to consider, too. I can't abandon them, I gave him my word.

'Now, do you think you could get me the general's handgun?"

Clark blinked. "His GUN?"

"Yes. I don't have a weapon. I could use a gun."

"No."

"You may have laser eyes but I'm…"

"No. I am not going to steal Sam Lane's gun for you. If you want his gun, go and get it yourself, but I'm not going to get it for you. Besides, he's probably taken it with him."

"Clark."

"That's a no, Lex. Live with it. I'll take you with me, but I sure as hell am not going to let you walk around stoned with Lois' Dad's military gun. Or anyone else's gun, before you start. You wanted me to be your weapon, fine, you've got me. I'm enough of an arsenal to fulfill your purposes. You don't need anything else."

Lex did not agree. Alright, the gun had been a last-minute request, but all of a sudden he was loath to go without it. Then again, Clark was right. He was a gun, a tank, a fucking Ferrari all in one. Still, he did not wish to be completely defenseless himself. He did need some kind of weapon.

"So," said Clark. "When do you want to leave? Right now?"

"I'm not sure."

"You're not sure? In what way?"

Lex gazed down on his fingers, who were playing Chopin on his knees. He could actually see the notes rise up from his pants. "Part of me wants to move as soon as possible. I have reason to believe that Chloe is not in any direct danger, but even if she isn't hurt, she's probably scared and worried and we need to get her out. But…" He looked up, and felt his heart give a throb of fear as he found the red-eyed boy from his dream sitting in front of him. He closed his eyes, and Clark was back, frowning.

"Lex?"

"It's…" Lex said, and jumped as Clark snapped his fingers in front of his nose. "What? Was I out?"

"A few minutes." The frown had turned considerate. "What on earth IS that stuff, that Phoenix Fire? That's what he injected you with, isn't it, the guy who experimented on you?"

"What it is is unimportant," said Lex. He shook himself. "That is the reason why I'm not sure we should move right away. I'm probably at the height of my," he smiled sourly, "high. If I wait another hour or so, I'll be more coherent. I have no desire to get either myself or Chloe killed by blundering into the place stoned out of my head," he admonished Clark. "I may be a lot of things but I'm not stupid."

"The General may come back."

"He won't be back for at least another three, four hours, even if they take one look at the Second Buddha, decide it's impossible and turn right back. And I would like to wait until dark. The fewer people that see us, the better."

"If I take us," Clark said with rather adorable arrogance, "no one will see us."

"Do you have any gray clothes with you?"

"Eh, what?" He obviously thought Lex was hallucinating again.

"Gray. Gray clothes. Unless I've got it entirely wrong, the Temple People wear gray. Or maybe the Phoenix Gang, which doesn't actually seem to exist wears gray. God, it's giving me a headache! I wish these people figured out who they are and what they want!" He rubbed his fingers over his pounding temples, feeling the first hint of damp on his skin. Right. Sweating. And later…heart problems.

"Lex," Clark said again, making him start.

"What?"

"Let's wait an hour or so. I still think I should go by myself, but…"

"No," Lex said, getting up, "we're going in five minutes. Go see if you have any gray clothes and put them on. I'll do the same."

"Lex, you're TRIPPING. Let's wait."

"When I stop tripping, I'll probably get a heart attack," Lex said—which was not the smartest thing to say to a protective hound like Clark Kent, but fortunately Clark thought he was being frivolous. That, or he was more ruthless than Lex had ever given him credit for, and might need to be asked to join LexCorp as a junior enforcer.

Clark sighed. "Fine. I'll be back in five minutes."

Lex hoped to God he would, but he could do nothing but trust Clark's Boy Scout honor.

He went through his closet and found pants that went with a gray suit and a sweater that could not seem to decide whether it was slate or black, and put both on. He considered wearing his climbing boots but decided in favor of sneaking diplomat's shoes, and stepped into them.

Then he went into the bathroom and put his only weapon into the breast pocket of his shirt, under his sweater; tip up, so he wouldn't accidentally puncture the fabric and cut off his nipple. He turned towards the door…and hesitated. _I have no idea how long we are going to be in there. I have no idea what will happen. They might capture us—it's unlikely, but it might happen._

Releasing the door handle, he went back to the basin and opened the cabinet below it.

One dose.

Only one dose left.

He knew, now, what happened when he stopped 'coming down' and went into withdrawal. It wasn't nice. It also was something he wasn't looking forward to going through while trapped inside the hallways of a temple.

He picked up the syringe, prepared the needle, and put it inside the protective cover. Then he stuffed the whole thing into his other shirt pocket, pulled down his sweater and went to meet Clark in his room.

TBC

This was the idea that created this fic: Lex literally using Clark like a handgun. But the next chapter is why I actually wrote it :) The next one is the one in which Lex snaps. cheer!

BTW, I just bought this comic (I love comics. I adore comics. I even have the Smallville comic. Which kind of sucks. But nevermind) and it's called Superman/Batman: The Search for Kryptonite. It rocks. It doesn't have Lex, which is bad, but it has Clark who is EXACTLY like he is in SV, a Batman who is hilariously dry and sarcastic, lots of Kryptonite (one that makes Clark hallucinate), and, best of all, Lana finally being recognized and totally dissed by Clark for the bitch that she is. Dorky title aside, this comic is great, so if you're into comics at all, I just thought I'd mention this gem to you :)


	15. Chapter 14

Hey there people! Merry Christmas! I bring you this chapter of comfort and joy…Well, actually it's one of the bloodiest, most horrible chapters of this entire story, so…maybe not so comfortable and joyous after all :P

Next one may take a while, because of the holidays, but I'll do my best. As always many thanks for the reviews, and if I don't see you before the end of the year, Happy New Year!

Fourteen: Wielding Clark the Amazing Weapon

Lex Luthor was inherently good at looking out for number one. It hadn't exactly been part of his upbringing, but putting his own needs and desires before others' WAS the result of that upbringing.

His father could give him anything, but refused to give him the one thing he craved, and thereby rendered his material generosity all but worthless.

Sure, Lex enjoyed his money, his luxurious life, his unlimited freedom to go wherever he wanted and do what he wanted whenever he pleased. He'd have traded it all for a youth like Clark's.

This largesse was not as amazing as it seemed. After all, Lionel was a self-made man—all he'd needed to become one of the most successful business people on earth had been that tiny step into crime, blow up his parents, and start his empire on the smoke and blood-scented dollar bills he received from their insurance.

Lex wouldn't even need crime to give him a head start. All he needed was an hour to explain his plans—any of the hundreds of plans that was simmering to perfection in the back of his head—an organization or private party willing to fund and/or invest in those plans (never a problem), and he'd gain a few hundred thousand after a year or so.

He was just that fucking brilliant.

Wealth was good, and he had come to require it because he was used to it, but it wasn't essential.

Satisfaction in one's work was essential. Recognition for the worth of one's endeavors was essential.

Being able to believe in oneself, be proud of oneself, revel in one's own abilities…that was essential.

For a long time he had thought that love was not essential, rather, that it interfered with all of the above, spun him about and made him weak. Being love's fool over and over again had only strengthened that opinion. He had hated himself for every tear he shed for love or for want of it…but he had changed his mind (as he did whenever he fell in love—and of this he was aware as well) now he had Chloe.

He didn't like saying it aloud, but he did feel that way, and while she had already almost destroyed him once, he could only see her as a positive influence on his life.

She wasn't as beautiful as some of the women he'd had, but he guessed love did hand out pink-tinted glasses, because whenever she smiled at him he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world, and every super module seemed skinny, fake and soulless.

He didn't know when that had happened, that change from 'desirable sex-object/friend' to 'the woman I'd give my life for'. Certainly not when she was a child, in Smallville. Neither when she first set foot in his apartment with her mouth full of ink. Not when she played angel of mercy and visited him in the hospital after he was shot, either. Perhaps right after she'd almost mentally destroyed him by threatening she'd publish every illegal project he'd ever worked on and let him rape her for payback. She'd pointed out her lines to him, encouraged him to cross them, and then beat him back, showing him exactly where he stood.

No woman had ever taken so much from him, and given back so much of herself to atone. The experience had been humbling. But he still couldn't be sure he'd fallen in love with her then. Become her doormat, okay, but love?

As a matter of fact he had no idea when he'd actually fallen for her. But what was crucial was that he had, and that he wanted her back. And so he returned to his initial thought and that was that Lex always looked out for number one. And was failing.

It was a pity that this healthy and sensible attribute was forever being thwarted by the one character flaw his father had never succeeded in beating out of him: his overdeveloped sense of responsibility, that bordered on martyrdom.

Responsibility; Chloe would call it loyalty. Clark called it suicidal protectiveness. Lois, he had no doubt, would call it compulsive heroism.

Lex didn't know what his desire to sacrifice himself, or at least his safety, for other people should be called.

All he knew was that one of the few people he loved was held against her will in an underground temple, and that he was going to get her out no matter how. Drugs be damned. Traps be damned. Men with knives and darts be damned. He had Clark, and he wasn't afraid to use him.

*

Clark was late.

Lex only noticed when the younger man came skidding into his room ten minutes past the time they'd arranged; he'd zoned out again, he assumed. The scowl he pasted on his face for Clark's sake felt as fake as the Picasso on the wall.

"I'm sorry," Clark said. "I walked into Lois and I had to come up with a convincing excuse to not play scrabble with her."

"You didn't tell her she could come along too, did you?" Lex asked anxiously.

Clark rolled his eyes. "Of course not. Like I said, I needed the time to make up an excuse." He sighed. "I just hope we won't be stuck in this temple for longer than an hour. Or that we can't find the entrance. She'd have my hide, otherwise."

Lex snorted. "Your hide is indestructible, Clark. She'd only crack her nails on it."

"You don't need nails to flail someone alive," Clark said darkly. Lex wondered why he cared. Yes, Lois Lane had a fast mouth on her, and she was sharp enough to cut deep enough to draw blood. He still couldn't care less what she thought.

"I take it you thought of a credible explanation, then?"

"Yes," said Clark, and didn't elaborate.

"Good," Lex said wearily. He really didn't care what kind of carrots Clark used to steer Lois into another direction, as long as they didn't lead her into the one they were going. He inspected Clark's clothes; they were vaguely gray, but not really. Faded light blue jeans and a gray tee he probably used to sleep in. It would have to do. "Let's go. We shouldn't be seen."

"Lock your door, then," Clark said. "You probably don't want people to walk in and notice you're gone."

"Who would want to walk into my room to check I'm in?"

"Lois? Shanyuang?"

"Good point," Lex agreed. He let Clark exit first, and then locked the door. His gaze drifted to the hallway ceiling, where the ever-present invisible insects were fluttering around the lights.

Clark mistook the reason for which he was looking. "I cleaned up most of the bugs," he said. "In Lois' room, at least, and in my own. And there was one right here, in that lamp up there."

"That's good." He tucked away the key.

"Shall we go?"

He nodded.

"Right," said Clark, picked him up and raced out of the hotel.

*

_One of these days I'm going to make him carry me while he's running 500 MpH, and then I won't be either stoned, in shock, or bleeding to death_, Lex promised himself as he stood, swaying, where Clark had put him down after flashing over to the park.

The wind had picked up, sending the clouds speeding ever so fast across the sky. To Lex's eyes, they moved in strange jumps and slides; now almost halting completely, now going so fast they became a blur.

The Buddha sat on the square like a giant relaxed hippie at Woodstock. As Clark and he approached it, it opened its eyes and gave Lex a small smile.

"Good evening," it said.

"Hi," Lex returned.

"What?" asked Clark.

Lex blinked. The Buddha's face was blank, its eyes half-closed. But as he was looking, he saw the tip of a stone tongue moisten the plump lower lip—he heard the soft grating sound of stone sliding along stone. "Nothing," he said softly. "Nothing whatsoever." He wiped his eyes.

Sweat was pouring off of him now, making him shiver as the cold wind bit into exposed, wet skin. Beneath his feet, the ground seemed to rise and fall, as if he were standing on the chest of some enormous monster. The Buddha wriggled its toes. Lex tore his gaze away from the stone behemoth and looked at Clark instead.

"Can you see anything?"

"I wish I knew where to look," Clark returned. He looked up at the statue, ignoring its wagging tongue entirely, and walked around it, returning to the place behind its back.

"A trapdoor, I suppose," Lex said. "It should be…"

"Got it." Clark kneeled down just behind the Buddha's back—and then Lex found out why exactly the people of Shueng took such great care to keep the stones of their statue's perch so clean and free of moss. Clark didn't need to break things, dig them out or smash anything to bits. He just wrapped his fingers around one of the big tiles that was forever in the Buddha's shadow, pulled, and revealed a steep stairway into the ground.

"I'll be damned," Lex said laconically. "I really do need a hat and a whip."

Clark, as impassive as any Chinese, only muttered, "Huh!

'I didn't bring a flashlight," he added, as Lex peered down into the darkness.

Lex held up the mini light he'd kept on his key ring ever since Chloe and he had gone out hoping to explore ruins. Before she left, Chloe must have thought it ballast and removed it from the car key to the rental; he'd found it back on the table. "I did." He lit it, and descended.

*

The stairs ended in a tunnel, a narrow path that started to rise almost as soon as it began. To Lex, it was like traveling through the guts of the monster he'd been standing on before. Every once in a while he so totally lost himself in this hallucination that he thought he could hear the blood streaming through the vessels running next to those bowels—realizing only later that at those points, they must have passed the underground spring.

Despite the fact that there was no wind inside, the tunnel was icy cold. It was very dark, and the blackness pulsed in front of his eyes like a heartbeat. The narrow circle of light from his flashlight flickered in his shaking hand.

"Let me go first," said Clark, gently pushing Lex aside so he could wring himself past him. "I can see just fine in the dark."

"That's nice." His face was so cold his nose, cheeks and lips were going numb. He was still sweating like a pig, though. It stung in his eyes and made his vision blurry.

"Come on," said Clark. "Just follow my lead. But Lex?"

"What?"

"If you can't go on, tell me. Please tell me, and don't push yourself till you drop, ok? I'd hate to get Chloe out safely and then have to tell her that you fell in the rescue attempt."

Lex produced a throaty chuckle. "I'll be fine," he said. He only just managed not to add 'as long as that beast we're walking in doesn't decide to clear its throat.' That might have disproved his claim. He pointed his light to the floor. "Lead the way, oh brave Sir Robin."

He didn't need any source of light to know that Clark rolled his eyes.

*

"Clark," Lois had said when she'd walked in on him just when he was rifling through his clothes, looking for gray, "can't you try to persuade Lex he should go to the hospital?"

It had been so unexpected coming from her that he completely forgot the fib he'd readied to explain the rearranging of his closet. "What? Why?"

"Because…" She put her hands in her pockets and looked uncomfortable. "Because I really think he isn't doing all that well."

Clark knew damn well that Lex wasn't doing all that well. As a matter of fact he was surprised the man was able to act the way he did—being a manipulative prick—and not fall flat on his face. But he was curious what Lois, who hated Lex, had picked up from Lex to make her concerned about his well being.

"Remember when I bandaged him?" Lois said at his raised eyebrows. "Most of those cuts were almost healed, but there were a couple of them that were fresh, on his stomach. He made those himself, Clark, he had to have to make them that fresh. There were some cuts beneath them; they formed some kind of symbol, or what's it called, a character. He'd cut himself to cover those scars!" She pulled her hands out of her pockets, crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I don't know what happened to him in that basement, but…Damn it! He's a lying cheat and a fucking bastard but I don't want him to lose his mind and start cutting himself up during a bad trip! It's creepy! What if he slits his throat next? He needs help, or at least someone to watch him, and I really think we shouldn't leave him on his own."

Beneath all that bravado, Lois was such a sweet girl, really.

It was Lois who had provided Clark with the excuse he needed to be gone. He'd volunteered to baby-sit Lex. He'd even suggested she should keep a distance because her presence seemed to upset Lex, a tiny little untruth on Lex's account to pay for all the other lies he had fed her already. She concurred. She had promised him she'd stay in her room and lock the door until either her father came back or Lex 'had fallen asleep'.

As he was walking through the seemingly endless hall of the underground temple, he tried in vain to push the guilt away he felt for lying to her like that. Lois was so certain he was just a bumbling country hick it was almost embarrassingly easy to fool her. That was one of the problems about dealing with Lex: Clark always lied to everyone, especially to those he loved and wanted to protect, but as soon as Lex was involved, the lies turned dirty. Little white lies grew out to stinking untruths, and he felt as if he were trampling over the trust other people had in him.

And yet…

Every time again he decided that this time, Lex had crossed the final line, their friendship was irreparably broken and Clark's time should be devoted to bringing Lex and his company down, down, down…But then Lex did something, or said something, and Clark found his whole carefully structured foundation of norms and values come tumbling down around him.

Sometimes it was simply telling Clark how he felt about certain occurrences in the past—like that failed jail-bust five years ago.

Sometimes it was keeping secrets Clark hadn't even known he'd spilled.

Sometimes it was not only accepting but embracing a sexual attack that would have given anyone who would really wish to bring him harm the perfect opportunity to land Clark's ass in jail—and deservedly so, too.

And sometimes it was the reason why Clark had lied this time: the fact that when it came down to it, Lex would let nothing come in his way to help those he cared about. Not drugs. Not injury. Not the fact that he could hardly walk straight, or that he would most likely get himself killed as well.

What else could Clark do but spin his lies and do everything in his capacity to help him?

*

After a forty-minute hike or so, the tunnel changed into a stairway, with stairs carved out into the rock. Clark concluded that they must be nearing the entrance to the temple proper—at least he couldn't think of another reason to take the trouble to create stairs but to make things official.

"Lex," he whispered, and found Lex staring at the wall with a frown. "What are you doing?"

"Am I going crazy or did I just hear a horse neighing?"

_You're not crazy, Lex. You're just high._ Then he heard the sound himself, first faintly, then very clear as he focused on it. Lex was right. He COULD hear horses. "No, you're right." If he concentrated, he could even hear voices. "It must be the General and his men, climbing up. There's probably some kind of air shaft, here, leading to the surface."

Lex giggled. "Huh. If only they knew we were climbing up with them, only below their feet. Lane would swallow his cigar stub."

"Yeah, that would be hilarious," Clark whispered dryly. "We've come to a stairs, by the way. The entrance is probably close. I suggest we remain silent in case there are guards." Lex only smiled mockingly, and Clark turned around with a shrug. The man was doing pretty good without being coddled; perhaps Clark should stop treating him like an invalid.

He took another step forward, looked down in surprise as he noticed a sharp click and a slight descent of the stone he was standing on, and winced as four darts hit his mid-section. They bounced off, but it was still a bit of a shock. Those darts would have hit Lex in the chest, and the general Chinese in the neck. Clark had no doubts they were poisoned, too. He was suddenly very glad he hadn't given in to his initial plan, which was to pick Lex up and run all the way up. If he had come to a stop on that tile carrying someone, those darts would have hit Lex in the HEAD.

"Ah, more darts," was all Lex murmured, completely unfazed. "They really love darts." He drifted to the wall, tracing his fingertips along the stone as he searched for the origin of the darts.

"No shit," Clark whispered back. He plucked one out of his shirt. It was coated with a nasty-looking green-black substance. "Better stay behind me."

"Better watch your step," Lex shot back, and Clark focused on the ground as he went on.

*

He'd been right about the guards. The entrance to the temple was rather plain, with only two crude statues framing the doorway, which was little more than a square hole. The entrance was well lit with electric torches; a generator was purring in a corner.

There were two guards sitting on a carpet on the ground. They were playing poker, exchanging the cards across the space of the doorway. No razors or darts for these men: they both had a gun tucked away in the back of their pants.

"I wonder how many people wearing guns like that have shot themselves in the butt," Lex murmured.

"Sssh!" hissed Clark. He brought his mouth close to Lex's ear. "I don't want to take them out. That might alert the rest of them, and I don't want to endanger any prisoners. Maybe we should capture one and interrogate him?"

Lex shook his head. "Guards never know anything," he breathed back. He wiped his face with his sleeve. "Can you take us past them without them noticing?"

Clark grinned. "Just wait and see."

He blurred over to the generator and simply turned it off. The lights blinked, dimmed, then went out completely. The guards rose to their feet, cursing. Clark ran back, picked Lex up and easily passed the guards as they fiddled with the generator in the dark. When it started up again and the lights went back on, both Clark and Lex were safely inside…

…with Clark balancing on three steel spikes after falling six feet down when the tile under his feet dropped away.

Lex leaned over in Clark's arms and studied the trap with interest. "My, my, my," was all he said, and Clark could have cheerfully throttled him. He sounded like Lionel. Clark could feel the soles of his shoes rip to pieces as he wobbled. He wasn't heavy enough to bend the spikes, and they couldn't pierce his skin, but it was still damn uncomfortable.

"Keep still!" he hissed, then, reconsidering, dumped Lex on the floor of the hallway and hoisted himself out once he had his arms free.

The hallway was deserted; no one had come running at the sound of the crash when the tile gave way. Clark wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. For the moment he decided he'd rather take it as a positive sign.

"I could make a theme park out of this," Lex mused. He had picked himself up and was gazing around with a dreamy smile on his face. "Look at this place!"

Clark looked. 'This place' was dark and cold (Clark measured this by the cloud of his breath), lit by flickering fire torches and humming electric lights. On the wall was a faded drawing of a Buddha or Bodhisattva and a blue-skinned man sitting across one another. At first Clark thought they were shaking hands, but after a second glance he saw that the Buddha was offering the other man a flower, while the blue man held out a curved sword. In the wavering light it was as if their hands pulled back and stretched out once more, offering and withholding again and again.

"Christ, Lex," he muttered. "Focus, will you?"

"I am focused," Lex returned, immediately growing serious again. He briefly pressed his wrist against his chest, then lifted the same arm to wipe at his forehead. "I've never been more focused in my life. But I can either imagine what would happen to me if I dropped into one of those traps, or what I'd do with the place if I could buy it and turn it into a theme park."

"Why don't you focus on finding Chloe and then getting out in one piece?"

"Chloe _and_ Feng Lao's wife and kid," Lex corrected. He fell into step with Clark as the latter started to walk again. "Can you see them yet? I know you can look through tables and doors. Can you look through stone walls as well? You can, can't you?"

"Yes," Clark said quietly. "I can." Lex smiled with delight. Clark peered through the nearest wall. "As a matter of fact," he said hastily, "I see someone coming right now. There's another tunnel. Come on." He grabbed Lex's arms and pulled him away from the approaching man in gray.

*

Lex was breathing as loud as a horse. Sure, Clark's ears were more sensitive than a guard dog's, but he was almost hyperventilating, gasp in, gasp out, and his heart was beating out a crazy pulse some DJ could have used as an alternative rhythm for one of the faster Metallica songs.

He nudged Lex's shoulder, wincing at the jerk of the man's body at the contact. "Are you ok?"

"Perfectly," Lex said through a twisted grimace. A drop of perspiration fell from the tip of his nose; he caught it on the sleeve of his shirt. In the dim of the hallway his head shone like wet Cararic marble. But his face was set with determination, and Clark decided telling him that this really was a horribly bad idea would only result in Lex literally trying to rip his throat out, and kept silent.

He stared ahead, through the walls, hoping he'd see a woman's x-ray, preferably scratching at the doors to get out, but even tied to a bed would be ok. At the same time he tried to look through the floor and the walls, searching for traps or pressure stones.

Lex had given up all pretense of doing his share of trap-detecting. At first, he'd pointed out possibly hazardous stones, but after a while Clark had taken over and Lex didn't bother looking anymore. He probably had enough trouble seeing _straight_, let alone searching for strange tiles on the floor.

"Do you see her yet?" he'd ask every few minutes. "Her, or a woman and a child. A girl. Or a group of people huddled together—the hostages might be kept in a group."

So far, Clark could only shake his head. Even though they had, as of yet, not met anyone since they'd skirted around the entrance guards, the temple was quite busily populated. Because it was built like a many-layered maze, trying to figure out on what floor the people actually were made Clark's head ache. Everyone he did see, above or ahead or below, was walking of sitting or…

He grasped the back of Lex's soaked-through shirt and pulled him sharply to the side.

"Not that tile, Lex."

Below the tile was a yawning depth of blackness, with deep down the cold gray-blue of steel spikes. Clark didn't know how the trap worked—didn't much care to know, either—but staying away from that abyss seemed a good start.

Lex gave a grunt of acknowledgement that Clark had, for the sixth time this fine afternoon, saved his skin, and kept walking, a little closer to the wall this time. The temple walls had been stripped of most ornamentation, leaving only a few headless and armless embossed statues, a few more painted images and a great many graffiti drawings. Squatters would always remain squatters, Clark reflected, whether they were the Metropolis youth or Chinese gangsters. They'd trash the premises and render the place virtually inhabitable. Not that it had ever been cozy in the first place…

"Uh, where are you going?" he asked as Lex went left without as much as a 'Is someone over there?'

"Left," Lex said.

Clark jogged up to him. There didn't happen to be anyone in sight, but somewhere around the next corner he saw the telltale gleam of a skeleton through the gray of the walls. Lex was displayed as an x-ray as well, and Clark hastily switched back to ordinary vision. It was somewhat disconcerting talking to someone's bones. "Ok," he whispered, "I can see that, but why? There's someone coming. We should…"

"That garf…graff…" He shook his head, gritting his teeth, tried again. "The writing on the wall said 'Kitchen right, Meeting Room left'. I'd say that the chance to hear something related to any prisoners is bigger in the meeting room than in the kitchen. Although…People do tend to gossip in the kitchen…"

"Lex, someone's coming!" Spotting a niche in the near vicinity, Clark once again grabbed Lex around the ribs and pulled him out of sight.

*

"Maybe," Lex said, roughly ten minutes later, "it is time to start asking for directions instead of wandering around in this maze and getting nowhere."

They had found the meeting room, a wide, square area with amazing acoustics and a stone table hacked out of the floor worthy of King Arthur. Only it was square, not round. The chairs were a bit of a let-down, too, being ordinary plastic garden seats instead of sculpted hardwood thrones. No one had been there. The only thing Clark had found was a stack of papers all written in Chinese. Lex had browsed through them and proclaimed them worthless. Clark had folded them up and stuffed them into his pocket anyway. No map, indicating where any prisoners might be kept; not even a plan on how to best navigate the temple, or in what pattern the traps were laid out.

"I thought you wanted to keep a low profile."

Lex sighed. "I wanted to be in and out of this place with Chloe within ten minutes. The temple isn't cooperating. We need to find someone who can guide us through." He plunked down on one of the plastic chairs and leaned his head against the edge of the table. "What kind of insane Evil HQ is this anyway?" he mumbled. "We've been running around setting off traps for over an hour and no one even seems to notice. Are they stupid or just blind?" He raised his head a few inches, then dropped it back down on the table.

Clark winced. "You ok?"

"Of course I'm ok. I just feel like hell."

Clark smirked. "I could carry you."

"Thanks for the offer. But no. I've had my share of feeling like a new bride today." He pulled himself straight with visible effort, and Clark thought that he'd probably have to start carrying him around anyway. Lex was right: he was a lot more coherent than he'd been an hour ago, but the stimulant in the drug that kept him upright was wearing off, too.

The right thing, Clark knew, was to take Lex back to the hotel and do things his own way, that is to say, run through at the speed of a freight train and save the day crashing through walls. That was the way to rescue people. This sneaking was wearing on his nerves.

Lex seemed to read his thoughts. "She might no longer be here," he said wearily. "I really hope she will be, but we have to take the possibility into account that they've moved her. Or…I don't know. And there's Han Meiying and Zhang Lei to consider, too. We have to get them out. And Clark. You don't want anyone seeing you, not while you burst through the wall pounding your fists on your chest. You don't want to fall into their hands. Not in HIS hands, anyway." The last he uttered so softly Clark almost didn't hear him.

"Whose hands?" he asked, but Lex shook his head.

"Not now. I don't want to think about that now." He took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. "Let's go. Find someone. Make him talk. I want to find Chloe and go to bed."

"Right," said Clark, smiling despite the situation. How sweet of Lex to be concerned about Clark's safety. Or maybe it was simply covetousness. He did, after all, seem to regard Clark as part of his private collection of rare objects. The only thing he seemed to have forgotten was that without Kryptonite, no one was ever going to get his hands on Clark. He searched for traps. "Wait. There's an opening behind that wall." He squinted, trying to find depth as he peered through the stone slab. "It's another hallway, I think."

"Fascinating," said Lex. "Any traps?"

"I don't see anything."

Lex approached the wall Clark had indicated, moved a whiteboard (cringing internally at the way it clashed with its ancient surroundings) and patted the wall. "Is it a fake wall or some kind of door? Can you see whether it pivots, or slides? Or do you have to break through it?"

"I'm not sure." He crouched on the floor, feeling along the wall for some kind of pressure point. "There's a metal wire running from here…to here…but I don't know what it's connected to."

Lex dragged away a couple of stacked chairs, revealing another fresco on the wall. He clacked his tongue. Let him ride a horse once or twice and he kept clacking for days afterwards. "Shiva again. And a temple on the background. How symbolic. Not much imagination, though." He put his thumb on the door in the painting, pressed until he heard a click, and stood back as the hidden door smoothly slid open.

Clark shot him a sardonic smile. "You're really good at this, aren't you?"

"Mine is the age of RPG computer games in which you had to find hidden doors and think logically to finish the game," Lex said, and for a moment he almost looked like his old smug self. "None of that brainless click-and-play stuff, but honest commands by keyboard. That and about five other treasure hunts I've lead all across the globe," he added. "Especially the one in Egypt was highly educational."

Clark shook his head. "You've been raiding Egyptian tombs? I should have known you wouldn't mind stooping to grave-robbery."

"For your information," Lex said, leaning against the wall as he shone his mini flashlight into the dark passage, "it was a temple I raided and not a grave…and the local population was most eager to help me raid it. What do I care about mummies? I prefer my associates alive, thank you very much." He went through the door and stumbled over a stone.

Clark caught him before he could fall, felt the fast, almost convulsive expansion and deflation of Lex's ribcage as he panted for air, and pulled him all the way back. Damn it, but the man was an excellent actor. If you didn't really look for it, it was so easy to forget he was about to drop.

Lex leaned against the doorway for a few seconds, gasping until he could breathe normally again, and glared at Clark's anxious expression. "You go first," he said hoarsely. "I can't see a thing down there."

"You're going to get yourself killed."

"Stop whining. Move it."

With a shrug, Clark entered the passage. After a few steps, the hidden door closed behind them.

Further down passage was a faint light. Soon Lex could tuck his flashlight away; there was only one bare light bulb every fifty steps or so, but it was enough to see one's feet while walking. For the rest the hallway was bare, not even paintings covered the walls.

Clark didn't like the fact that the passage wound on and on without splitting up. It was horribly narrow, at some points his shoulders brushed the walls on either side. If they did encounter someone, they'd have to either move all the way back or meet that person head on. _Ah well. Lex wanted to talk to someone anyway. I don't see anyone anywhere close. Even if we did happen to stumble into someone there isn't anyone else present to set off the alarm._

After about a minute of stumbling through the semi-darkness, the tunnel widened again, and they came to a small, round chamber. It contained a table, a chair, and a rolled up sleeping mat. In a niche in the wall lay a pile of instant noodle packages and a water boiler on batteries. Ten candles stood against the back of the niche. The room had two exits, one closed by a door, the other open, and water bottles stood against the wall.

"A hide-out," Lex whispered, taking a moment to catch his breath while Clark investigated the room. "Someone could stay here for days."

"Bingo," said Clark. "But there's no one here, and I can't find anything to help us find Chloe. Let's go."

Lex picked the passage that didn't have a door, figuring it would lead deeper into 'private' territory. To Clark's relief, the tunnel almost immediately split up again. Almost immediately, the telltale gleam of a skeleton appeared as he switched to X-ray vision.

"Someone is around that corner," he whispered to Lex. "Maybe we can use him to find Chloe.

Lex nodded. He peeked around the corner while Clark focused on the man through the wall. He felt more than saw Lex's body jerk.

"Fuji," he breathed, or something that sounded like it.

The next moment, there were two skeletons. The second, coming from around the corner Clark was hiding behind, barreled into the first, sending it tumbling to the ground. Clark switched back to normal view, and noticed that Lex was no longer standing next to him.

_Aaargh!_

He flashed around the corner, just as Lex crashed his fist into the other person's face. He saw a glitter of metal, and the knocked-down man gave a shriek of pain as Lex's arm formed an arch and sliced through his clothes, into his chest. Blood spattered against the wall with the force of Lex's cut. The other man brought up his hands to defend himself but pulled them back, howling, when he found that his fingers were no match against the scalpel.

"Lex! Stop it!"

Lex paid him no attention; he pressed the point of the scalpel into the prostrate man's face, just below his eye, and drew it down in a savage movement, carving his face from eye to chin, like a cheetah's stripe, then sharply to the right across his jaw, creating a huge red L until the blood obscured the letter. A similarly shaped gash, smaller, appeared on the man's cheek bone. As the man screamed again, his teeth gleamed through the bubbling tear.

Lex spat out a phrase in Chinese, lifted his arm again for another strike—but this time Clark caught him, or would have caught him if he'd moved at super speed. As it was, Lex saw his movement from the corner of his eye and slashed at his approaching hand in reaction.

"Stay...BACK!"

If Clark had been human, he would have lost a couple of fingers. He wasn't, and the scalpel splintered to bits on his index finger. Lex didn't even notice. One of the rebounding splinters sliced open his cheek, and this he did not notice either. His eyes burned with hatred in his white face.

"Get off!" he snarled, brandishing the broken knife as if it could fend Clark off. The other man (Fuji?…no, it was something else) made a sound, and Lex shoved his knee into his throat, cutting off his airflow with another hissed threat in Chinese. Whoever he was, he was bleeding like a pig from his hands, his chest, his face. His fingers scrabbling at Lex's knee left dark wet smudges on the gray fabric. Some were shorter than they should have been. Lex turned back to him, his lip curled in a savage snarl. He leaned forward, making the other man choke.

"Jesus Christ, Lex, stop it!"

"No," Lex growled. He drew back his fist.

This time Clark did grab him, making sure he didn't crush the man's wrist in his fingers.

"_Yes_. Stop it."

"This..." Lex almost choked on his fury. "This son of a fucking WHORE...this was the one who tortured me. Who locked me up, tied me down...he injected me...with...He even signed his bloody NAME in my fucking STOMACH!" A startling flood of tears of pure, unbridled rage coursed down his face. He yanked at his arm, but Clark held him back, and caught his other arm when it clawed at Fuji's eyes.

"No. Lex, no. Stop it!"

"Why?" Lex spat, fighting him for every inch. "What's it to you?"

"We are here," Clark said, pulling Lex back a little so his knee left the other man's throat, "to save Chloe. Not to kill people."

"I'm not going to kill him," Lex hissed, flinging himself forward without regard to his arm sockets. "I'm just going to rip him open and then watch him drown in his own blood. I'm going to make it fucking LAST!"

"No," said Clark, "you aren't. We're going to tie him up and put him somewhere he can't interfere, but we're going to leave it to the law to take care of him."

"There. is. no. law!" Lex panted. He fought like a cat for a few more seconds, then suddenly went limp and sagged against Clark's legs, dangling from Clark's grip like something dead. "There is no law here," he repeated dully. He tugged at his arms; reluctantly, Clark let him go. Rather belatedly it occurred to him that restraining a man who'd been tied to a gurney for days might not be such a good idea—but hell! What was he supposed to do? Let Lex slaughter this guy, no matter who he was, like some wild animal?

He couldn't do that, couldn't let Lex do that. Lex had killed before, but never like this, never this up-close and personal, and never this BRUTALLY. Clark had come close to killing people several times, but there had always been someone to stop him. A few times, Lex himself. On other occasions, masked female heroes. Killing, he imagined, was easy. It was living with the ghosts of the ones you had killed that ate the humanity away from your soul.

"Then he'll just end up crippled and disfigured," Clark said calmly. "The way he is now."

The man on the floor curled up around his slashed face and bruised throat, coughing. Lex stared at him with unveiled disgust. "He tortured me," he repeated tonelessly, and Clark nodded, sympathizing but also remembering a boy that swam like a fish…and dried out like a fish when deprived of water. In some weird, sadistic way, this was the ultimate poetic justice. He didn't wish it on Lex because he wouldn't wish what had happened to him on anyone. Part of him was still aching for Lex because of what had been done to him, but really, wasn't this exactly what he had done to all his little test objects?

_And this is why we can't ever regain our old friendship, _he admitted to himself. _How could I ever claim that what I feel is friendship for someone whose horrible, traumatic experiences I secretly accept as 'justice'?_

He felt a sharp pang of guilt and self-loathing; this was Lex, after all, and he had once loved Lex enough to stand up for him against the whole of Smallville. And exactly how horrible and traumatic his past experiences had been, he was only now coming to realize. He had never seen Lex lose it so completely. Whatever it was what had happened to him, or the substances still tainting his blood; something had cracked inside of him, and what came pouring out was terribly efficient, but equally disturbing.

Lionel. Without the veneer, the charm and the control. This would have been Lionel as he grew up in the Suicide Slums.

His father, the eminent sage Jonathan Kent, had had a period of time in which he referred to Lex Luthor solely as 'that smirking serpent' or 'that viper'. When he'd been a boy, he hadn't seen how correct that phrase was. He'd been too charmed by the attention paid to him by the enigmatic, fascinating young man with his brilliant mind and his desire to please him and win his adoration to notice the coils Lex had been draping around him.

One could say that Lex couldn't help being who he was. He'd been brought up by a snake, so he couldn't help being one himself. He wasn't intentionally evil, he was just what he was made to be. It didn't make him any less dangerous. Before this moment, Clark had thought that Lex had been most dangerous wreathed in serpentine calm, safe and secure in his control over himself, the situation—any situation, and his control over everyone present. Seeing the bleeding mess on the floor, Clark began to wonder if he hadn't been wrong about that.

"You wanted me as your weapon," he said, wishing he sounded less commonplace. "Well, you have me. But I'll be the only weapon you've got. And we do things my way. And that means no killing. I'm not a gun. I can't let you kill him, Lex."

Lex looked up at him, pushed himself to his knees as he noticed he was still using Clark's legs for support. His usual smirk was an ugly sneer, lower lip quivering with rage even as tears still trickled down his face. "I see. I can have a weapon but only one at the time. Well, since my other weapon appears to be broken," he scoffed at his shattered scalpel and thrust it back into his pocket, "I'll behave according to the rules set up by my other." He wiped his face, spreading the tears and the blood over his face before soaking them up with his sleeves. The blood left a thin film of red over half of his face. The cut had already healed.

"Yes?" Clark asked. Lex was kneeling, but there was NOTHING submissive about his posture.

"Oh yes," Lex hissed. "Let's just make sure he won't die, shall we? Let's give him a little more energy so he can keep his heart beating."

Clark could have stopped him, but didn't; watched, instead how Lex pulled the box with the one remaining dose with Phoenix Fire from his pocket, took out the syringe and plunged it straight into Fuji's neck.

*

_A Porsche 911 cabrio 3.6 carrera 2: $200.000._

_LeXCorp 2007 profits: $1.300.079._

_Purely coincidentally running into the man who'd kept you locked up and tied to a table in the basement to torture and experiment upon you, and then getting the chance to do it all back, even only for five minutes…: Priceless._

Lex felt a rush of vicious satisfaction temporarily burn away the exhaustion pulling at his limbs. He had read accounts of people who had taken vengeance on others, who'd witnessed the murderers of loved ones given the chair…and felt nothing. No such disappointment for him. Delivering vengeance almost made him hard because it felt so. fucking. good. He leaned over Fu Yang's gibbering form, pressed down his wrists, smiled down on the man's terrified face.

"Lex," Clark admonished.

"He'll know where she is," he said. "Oh, he'll know. He'd better know." He felt his mouth stretch wide in a predatory grin. Fu Yang was panting for breath in that way Lex was intimately familiar with. He was doing it himself right now.

"I told you I'd make you pay," he purred in Chinese. Especially that sickening flash of teeth through the flesh of Fu Yang's cheek filled him with unholy pleasure. "How does it feel, your Phoenix Fire? Invigorating, isn't it? Don't worry, soon the pain you're feeling right now will become unimportant. With a bit of luck you'll still bleed out, but you won't feel a thing. Isn't that a nice prospect?"

He brought his face even closer. "Where is she? Where is Chloe?"

"She's dead!" Fu Yang gurgled, but Lex shook his head.

"Don't be stupid. If she's dead, your death is going to take daaaaays. You see," he drawled, "my friend over there…he's the sensitive type. He doesn't like blood. You might have got that from the way he stopped me." He nodded pleasantly. Fu Yang's already bulging eyes widened even further. Lex had no idea what expression he was wearing, but it was sufficient to scare the scientist shitless.

"Lex…" It scared Clark shitless too. How…interesting. He put his finger into the tear in Fu Yang's cheek, making him writhe in agony. Clark made a choking sound. He didn't stop Lex, though, and this made Lex very happy. His whole body was thrumming with it.

"But he does," he went on, not really caring if Fu Yang actually understood him, "embrace the concept of justice. If you don't tell me where Chloe is—who happens to be a close friend of him, too, by the way—he'll leave to go and find her on his own. He'll leave you with me. Aaaall alone with me. In that little room a while back. It has a little table. And water bottles. I might have lost my scalpel but I am an inventive man; I'll improvise."

He hooked the first digit of his index finger into the man's cheek and pulled. Fu Yang gave a high whine, but the agony in it was already gone.

"Stop it!" Clark said, reaching out again. "Lex, he's not talking, stop it! We'll find someone else."

"I haven't asked him yet," Lex said. "One more minute." He turned his head, facing Clark. "Think about Chloe. Think about what he might have done to her…if thinking about what he did to me isn't enough for you."

Clark swallowed audibly. But again, he did nothing.

Lex left Fu Yang's face alone, smiling. "Doesn't hurt, does it? I could suck out your eyeballs and you wouldn't feel a thing. Now, think very carefully, Fu Yang. How many pieces of your body do you want to lose without even feeling it before you tell me where Chloe is kept?" He curled his hand into a loose fist, his index fingers sticking out like a claw. He held the finger right above the man's right eye. Absentmindedly he noticed he should cut his nails. He liked them short. Long nails looked disgusting on a man. They did have its advantages when considering the removal of eyes.

"Well? If you lie, I'll be back and take them out with my bare fingers."

Fu Yang deflated. His face, where it wasn't stained red, was a bloodless white. If he didn't go into shock from blood loss or the effects of the Phoenix Fire, he'd nevertheless lose consciousness very soon. Hanging on to wakefulness with Lex Luthor's revenge-crazed grin full in one's face proved too much even for him.

"One floor down," he bubbled. "Hospital ward. Right turn from the statue of Shiva and Buddha."

"Thank you so much," Lex said. He got up and wiped his dripping hands on Fu Yang's gray sweater. "I know where she is," he told Clark. He pointed at Fu Yang. "Let's get him out of sight."

"I…I'll…Yes," said Clark. He was staring at Lex with an expression of horror Lex didn't much care for. There was nothing he could do about that now. "I'll put him in that little room," Clark said.

"Maybe you could do something about his wounds, too," Lex suggested. An attempt at humanity. "Or he'll bleed to death."

"I will." Clark's voice was small, his face vulnerable as he picked up what was left of Fu Yang. The man's clothes were dripping.

_Just like me, this Christmas._ Suddenly Lex felt a wave of nausea run through him, and he clutched his stomach in pain.

"Lex?" Clark asked. "You ok?"

"Just…hurry," Lex gasped out. He curled up against the wall, pressed his forehead against his knees and waited for the spell to pass.

"Right," Clark said quietly, and then he was gone.

TBC


	16. Chapter 15

Hey people! As always, many thanks for reviewing!

Sorry for the late update. I kind of injured my hand while slicing cheese, so I couldn't type for a while.

Boobug…funny, I had the same idea : ) Whether it really was Fu Yang or someone else…That's something Lex has to find out, too.

For Lionel fans; he'll be along, too. In a couple of chapters. For now, it's just Clark and Lex.

Fourteen: A Successful Rescue Mission

By the time Clark came back, Lex had wrestled control over his body once again, or at least wiped that horrible insane expression from his face and sat with his legs drawn up against the wall like one of those Pierrot marionettes Lana had brought with her from Paris. The creepy grin was gone; he looked composed now, but Clark didn't think he'd ever forget that expression.

"He's…I tied him up," Clark said. Lex stared up at him, head leaning against the wall, eyes flat and still wet, reflecting Clark's image without showing any feelings.

"Good," Lex said tonelessly.

"I…bandaged his fingers. And his cheek. His shirt was stuck to the wounds on his chest…I didn't touch that. I'm not sure he won't still bleed out, though."

"Good."

"Lex…" He hesitated, then decided that even if there wasn't time for a heart to heart, he'd MAKE time, and squatted down in front of the other man. "That guy. What was it he did to you?"

"Fu Yang?" Lex smiled humorlessly. His smile broadened when Clark held out the mineral water bottle he'd taken with him from the secluded room to him, hiding 'psychotic madman' Lex and showing more of 'serpentine calm and control' Lex. Lex was always touched when people were being considerate, even if he didn't always showed it. "Thank you."

Then he grew bitter again. "What he did to me? Just what I did to him. Only over several days. Like I said, he took an interest in my healing abilities, and he tested out how well they worked. With razors. He starved me and kept me tied to a gurney. And he injected me with Phoenix Fire. And then left me. With paralyzed vocal chords. That sucked." He took a sip of water. His hands were shaking again. "He fucked with my _head_," he finally whispered, and roughly wiped his eyes before taking another swallow.

Somehow, by the tears—although those might be caused by shock or drugs or even withdrawal—Clark got the idea that that final statement held a lot more additional grief, but he didn't think he wanted to hear it right now, or that it would be beneficial either for Lex or for himself to make the former talk about it. Lex's mind was a bit like one of those Porsches of his; it worked real fast and ran as smoothly as you pleased, but sometimes it crashed, and when it did, the wreckage was spectacular. And liable to blow up at the most unexpected times.

"He won't heal like you did," Clark said, not as much accusing as stating a fact. He might have stopped Lex from killing, but if Fu Yang died, he'd still be a murderer. Lex nevertheless saw it as an accusation and reacted as if stung.

"And does that make what he did to me less of a crime?" he hissed. "Does that make my actions worse than his? Being able to heal fast doesn't mean it didn't hurt! It won't erase his name from my flesh. It won't undo what he did to me!" His lip curled up again. "You wouldn't understand."

"I do," Clark said calmly, and he did—partly, he guessed. He knew all about rage and helplessness, and about wanting to take revenge, and hate so all-invasive it made you want to cry. Some of it had been directed at the man lying in a heap across of him. The only difference was that Clark had so far been able to control himself. "Believe me, I do."

"But…what?" Lex sneered. He was no longer crying but his eyes were still wet.

"But nothing," said Clark. He got up. "Just…don't do it again. Ever. Not in my presence. No, not ever. Don't resort to doing…that kind of things."

"Your boy scout's honor feels violated by my swift dealing of justice?"

'Justice'. _No. Don't say it. If I say that, I'll break something that will never mend, restorative powers or not_. "No," he said, glaring Lex down before offering his hand to pull him up. "It just disgusts me to see you tear into someone like a wild animal. That has nothing to do with boy scout honor, or whatever you wish to call my norms and values. It's just something I don't wish to see any of my friends do. It upsets my alien view of the human species."

That admission shook Lex out of his defensive attack mode, and actually made him gape up at Clark. Then he grinned—not like a homicidal lunatic but a rather exhausted young man who'd just got a joke that wasn't on him for a change—and held out his arm so Clark could pull him to his feet.

"My alien conscience," he snorted. He held on to Clark's wrist a few seconds longer than he needed to. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I wouldn't want to upset my weapon."

Clark nodded, perfectly serious. "It might misfire."

"As long as it doesn't turn on me," Lex said quietly.

"It won't, as long as you use him and not your own hands." He released him, then steadied him as he reeled. "Your weapon is going to take you to your girlfriend and then take you home so you can sleep."

Privately, Clark hoped Lex would have terrifying nightmares about Fu Yang. Not about what Fu Yang had done to him, but about what he had just done to Fu Yang. Not because he was keen on Lex having night terrors but because, if he wouldn't have them about this…he wasn't sure he wanted to have an influential person like that: a man who could rip open a man and then TORTURE him with a grin without having any problems with those actions, hanging around his best female friend.

Lex nodded. "Fu Yang said she was one floor down, in the Hospital ward. Right turn from the statue of Shiva and Buddha."

"Finally. Directions."

"Don't underestimate the power of…" he trailed off, and looked sick. Perversely, that look made Clark feel a lot better. "Let's go," Lex mumbled.

Clark nodded. He kept one eye on the ground and one on the walls, searching for traps. Lex walked next to him, one hand trailing along the wall, one occasionally pressed against his stomach. They found the stairs down, and shortly afterwards, only having to duck away twice to hide from passing gang members (who had _finally_ perceived that something was wrong), the statue of Shiva and Buddha. It was the only statue still in one piece they'd seen so far, and easily as large as life. It resembled the wall painting Clark had noticed in the entrance hall.

Neither Clark nor Lex took the time to study the statue, however. This hallway was entirely free of traps. They just looked at one another, nodded, and turned left. The first door they found was the door to the hospital ward.

*

When Lex opened the door, he saw a room with four hospital beds, of which one was occupied. Next to the bed stood Fu Yang.

"No," he said, and backed out of the room again. "No. No, that's impossible." He took another step back, but the wall was already against his back. No, not the wall, Clark's chest.

"What is it?" Clark asked, then darted past Lex and grabbed the Chinese before he could utter more than the shortest of screams. "Chloe!" he said—but Lex's eyes were glued to the other man's face.

It wasn't Fu Yang.

Of course it wasn't Fu Yang.

Mistaking this man for Fu Yang was understandable, since he resembled him as he had been before he'd slicked back his hair and changed his features…somehow…but it wasn't Fu Yang.

It couldn't be him.

He'd cut Fu Yang—the real Fu Yang—up not ten minutes ago. The one with the altered face, the one that he'd etched into his eidetic memory together with the taste of noodle soup.

Lex blew out a shaky breath, gulping down another as soon as the air had left his lungs. His heart was performing weird jerky actions in his chest, quite unlike its usual pumping. _That isn't Fu Yang. I'd recognize him the moment I set eyes on him—I did. I marked him. That was Fu Yang. He'd have said something if he hadn't been—and he WAS Fu Yang. I'm sure of it. That was Fu Yang. This isn't him, this is something else. See, he looks nothing like him…well, a little. A lot. Fuck…_

He clutched the door for support, taking a few selfish seconds to not care about Chloe at all and focus on staying upright. Only when he heard her voice he raised his head and focused on the one occupied bed.

"Lex?" she said weakly, showing him a dreadfully white, but mainly stupefied face. "Clark? What are YOU doing here?"

Lex's convulsing conscience decided to take a rain check on the Fu Yang subject. He stared at the girl in the bed, internal sensors sending a quick stream of assessment into his brain:

_Color: pale. No fever blush._

_Eyes: pupils shrunk. Either in a lot of pain, in shock, or tranquilized. Last option most probable._

_State of mind: surprised, befuddled, but not delirious. Drugged?_

_Physical state…_

He lurched to the bed and somewhat inelegantly fell down on the bed next to Chloe's, trying in vain to see what was wrong with her.

"Chloe! Are you alright? What's wrong?" Clark knew how to solve that: ask. He had tied up the Chinese man—who definitely wasn't Fu Yang—up with strips torn from a sheet and positioned him with his face to the wall in the corner. "No broken bones," Clark notified Lex before she could say anything. He squinted at her legs below the blankets.

Chloe was still gaping from Clark to Lex, finally focused on Lex.

"Hey," he said, which was pretty lame, but just about the only thing he could manage without bursting into tears of gratitude she was at least relatively ok, and sheer physical and mental overload.

One corner of her mouth quirked up. "Hey," she whispered back. Her voice was floaty. "Lex. Either you really can't handle…my absence or you've…been taking…really bad care of yourself."

To his own surprise he felt himself grin. He leaned forward on his bed and cupped her jaw in his hand, trying to ignore how badly he was shaking. "I just lost my razor."

It was possibly the worst joke he'd ever made in his entire life—he only realized how bad after he'd said it aloud—and Clark gasped in incredulous surprise, but Chloe didn't know the background story and smiled faintly. She was so pale the birth mark triangle on her left cheek stood out like ink splotches, but if she was hurt, at least she wasn't in too much pain right now.

"What's happened to you?" he asked. He really wanted to hug her, but if she'd strained her ribs, that would be the last thing she needed.

She gave a tiny shrug. "I fell. Through the floor. Isn't that the insanest thing? They have TRAPS in this place. Like a Lara Croft temple. I fell on…on spikes. I hurt my leg. And my side."

Lex was glad he hadn't followed his impulse and hugged her. "Oh my poor sweet girl…" he whispered, and stroked her hair instead. It badly needed washing.

"Can I have a look?" Clark asked. He was always so polite.

"Sure." She looked back at Lex as Clark drew back the blankets. She was wearing her own sweater but only her panties beneath them. Her right leg was swathed in bandages from ankle to upper thigh. "It doesn't hurt right now. Not much, anyway…There was this guy…he gave me something, an injection, for the pain." Her mouth pulled. "It was pretty…pretty bad, though. And I don't know…I don't know how bad it really is." She sniffed.

Lex kissed her cheek, still careful, mindful of the way he was shivering and that it might jar her and hurt her. His heart was hammering, both with Phoenix Fire and with rage at what had happened to her, and with relief as well. "It's going to be fine. Clark's going to take you to the hospital, and they'll take care of you there."

"I'm going to take BOTH of you to the hospital," Clark said with not so subtle insistence. He pulled the covers back up, tucked them in around her. "I don't think she's bleeding right now but I don't know enough about these kind of injuries to say anything about it. And you're about to collapse."

Lex shook his head. "I still need to find Han Meiying and Zhang Lei."

"Who?" asked Chloe.

"I can find them too," Clark insisted.

"Feng Lao's wife and child," Lex answered Chloe. "No," he said to Clark. "I promised I'd find them, and I intend to keep that promise."

"You're being an idiot," Clark snapped. "I'm not going to let you wander around with you…"

"Clark. Shut up."

"Feng Lao?" Chloe asked. "What's he got to do with this?"

Lex groaned and pressed his hands against his forehead. "Please, stop it, both of you!" He balled his hands to fists, faced Clark with as much authority as he could manage at the moment. "Take her to the hospital, make sure she's safe. That should take you, what? Ten minutes, tops? Tell General Lane we found Chloe. Or tell Lois, so she can call her dad. Then come back for me and Meiying and Zhang Lei."

"Lois is here, too?" Chloe whispered dubiously. "And her dad as well? Did you bring Perry, too?"

"No, I didn't ask him to come," Lex mumbled. "Sorry, my bad."

"Lex?" asked Chloe, and it held the kind of 'I think you might be flipping so I'll just say your name to see if you're still functional' tone, so he tried to smile reassuringly. "What the hell happened to you?" He obviously failed.

"I'm just a bit tired," he said. Only a minor understatement. "Chloe, before Clark takes you to the hospital…do you know if there are any other prisoners here?"

Clark very, very carefully gathered her up in his arms, making sure she was wrapped up securely.

"Right down the hall," she nodded. She moaned as Clark lifted her, bit her lip, but continued, "Crystal said so when they brought her here to translate when they…"

"Crystal's here?"

"Shall I put her down again?" Clark asked sarcastically. "So you can chat for a while longer?"

"No," Lex said. He took a deep breath. His relief was settling down, his rage was all but gone, but his heart was still thudding. "Could you…tell me where the traps are, down the hall? Then I can go look for Feng's family while you take Chloe…to town."

"Releasing a stampede of freed prisoners into a trapped temple might not be the best cause of action." It always bugged Lex when Clark was showing insight. He frowned. "Maybe I should just set them all off," Clark continued. "You can't walk into a trap that's already been sprung."

"That would alert everyone in the temple, though," Lex argued. "Just go. Take her to the hospital, and then come back."

"Come with us," Chloe whispered, suddenly fearful, and clutched at the hand he'd used to caress her shoulder. "Don't stay here, come with us!"

"I gave Feng Lao my word." He gave Clark a smack on the back as if he were a pony. "Go on, take her home."

Clark's eyes narrowed with annoyance, but he nodded tightly. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He walked to the door, carrying Chloe as if she were a tiny baby bird, peeked out, then nodded down the hallway. "I see people behind the door over there, and behind the one behind that one as well. There's a loose tile in the center of the hall. It has a picture on it—one of those blue guys again. I don't see anything in the walls, so it's probably just that tile. Stick close to the wall and you should be fine. I would appreciate it," he added with a stern glance, "if you'd just stay here in this room and waited for me to return."

"I'll send you flowers to make up for your disappointment," Lex said with a vague attempt at humor. By the looks of it, he failed again. Oh well. "Godspeed," he said, dismissing Clark and his worries, and the next moment he was standing alone in the doorway to the hospital ward of the temple.

*

By the time he had made it to the nearest door, locked by, of all things, a deadbolt, his vision was narrowing and expanding with the drum of his heartbeat. Even though the Phoenix Fire had probably left his bloodstream by now, he felt more high now than he had for the past two hours. Briefly, he acceded that Clark had probably been right, and that he should have stayed in the hospital room.

Alas, compulsive heroism dictated otherwise. Panting, he lifted the bar and removed the bolt before pushing the door open. People were talking inside; as the door opened inward with a dramatic creak, the chattering stopped.

Lex gazed inside, saw nothing but a blur of seated people. "I'm...I'm looking for Han Meiying and Zhang Lei." He leaned against the door, gasping. Five Asian heads turned around to look at him, questions plain on their faces. _Oh Jesus fucking Christ my chest is going to implode._

"Han Meiying and Zhang Lei?"

A woman got up from where she'd been sitting, but shook her head at his expectant and hopeful expression. "No, I am not her. I've seen her several days ago; she must be in one of the other rooms. Maybe she is with the children." She paused, studied him with growing confusion. "Who ARE you?"

"Me?" He pulled at the neck of his sweater, desperate for air. "I am...Lex Luthor. I'm your savior for today." The ground was rising up and down like an ocean. Lex clutched at the door, wondering why his left arm was tingling. "Oh," he remembered. "You're all free to go. Although it might be...better...to wait for a bit because...this place is riddled with...traps."

"You better sit down," the woman said, and pulled at his sleeve.

"No, no, I'm fine."

"No," she said, "you aren't, and you most certainly won't be if you don't sit down and calm down. I recognize this," she added, pulling him to where she'd been sitting and gently pushing him down so he dropped down on her mattress. It seemed to him he sat down forever, but after a second or so he realized this was because all around him, people were getting up. "They've given you Phoenix Fire. I've seen this reaction in several of the people here."

"I know," Lex panted. He pressed both hands against his chest, not caring for the moment that he looked like a devoted grandmother presented with a bunch of pansies. "It's ok, it'll pass."

"It killed two of my friends," the woman said sharply. "First they turned white, like you, and then their hearts burst and they died. THEY passed, not the pain. Sit. Rest. Breathe. If you really are here to free us, it would be rather senseless for you to die, wouldn't it."

Lex admired her sensibility. He appreciated a woman who could think logically. He put his head between his knees and concentrated on not passing out.

Slowly, carefully, the people ventured from the room, tapping the floor with their feet as they made her way into the hallway and to the other doors.

After a while the crushing pressure in his chest abated a little. "I gave my promise to find Han Meiying and Zhang Lei," Lex muttered from between his knees.

The woman patted his shoulder. "They're here. Who did you promise? Feng Lao? Is he alright?"

"Yes. Yes, he's fine." He took a deep breath, and then another when the first one didn't lodge somewhere in the center of his chest. His lightheadedness diminished. He lifted his head so he could look the woman in the eye. "I'm sorry. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Xue Minh. Miss." She smiled. He smiled back, wondering privately whether his mouth would ever manage that minor expression without conscious thought again. "And you are Mister Rex?"

"Lex Luthor."

"From the glass factory."

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I've only been here for a couple of days. You were the talk of the town." She pressed her lips together. "My father supported the glass factory. He installed the lights in the mine, and the generator. He was scheduled to discuss the plans for illumination on Thursday, he said, with the council. You would have met him in a day or so, I guess...And you would have found him suddenly opposed to the factory."

"Like Feng Lao."

She shook her head. "Feng Lao's just a spy, poor man. They took his daughter first, to make him do what they wanted. They threatened to use the Fire on her, if he didn't report to them on all that went on at the hotel. A child! She's barely five years old!" Her eyes sparked with anger. "Of course they never used it on her. They didn't dare. They aren't monsters—or at least they weren't, before."

"Before what?"

"Before their leader's son was killed."

Lex sighed. _Why_, he thought, _can't these things ever be simple?_ "So what happened? Do you know?"

"I've heard things," Minh, Miss, said. "It's complicated." _No shit_, Lex thought tiredly. "As far as I know everything was pretty much fine until a few weeks ago. People were happy with the prospect of the glass factory. New jobs, more money, you know.

'Apparently, however, there was a small group that didn't want the factory here. At the same time, although this has been playing for a longer period of time, the Phoenix Gang was slowly coming into being."

"Fengfei," Lex muttered.

"The Mayor? Are you serious? No, I can't believe that. I know him personally; we used to be in the same class. He's a good man, he'd never get involved with something as squalid as drugs."

"Would his brother?"

"Wei?" She considered. "I don't know. I didn't know him very well..."

Lex took a deep breath and told her what he knew in as few words as possible. As he was speaking, he realized he didn't know a goddamn thing. Neither did Fu Yang's name ring any bells to Minh.

"I don't think I've ever heard of him before. Someone who works for both sides? Are you quite sure?"

"No," said Lex wearily. "I'm not." For all he knew he'd been fed buckets of lies. Deception, torture, hell, who knew what Fu Yang was doing, and who he really was. Then a small, cruelly satisfied smile quirked up his mouth. "One thing's for sure, though. If he survives what I did to him in the hall...he'll be easy to find. Cut fingers and a scar across your face like that...that's VERY hard to cover up."

Provided, of course, that really had been Fu Yang. But yes, it had to have been. Yes, he was certain he'd maimed Fu Yang, and not someone else.

His heart sped up again, a stuttering gallop of remembered joy at the violence he'd unleashed on his personal demon. _I just have to find him_, he thought. _I'll find him, and lock him up, and then cut off all his extremities one by one while I question him. I must remember to go and look for him._

"Hey." The woman shook him by the shoulder. "You're looking a bit better, but you probably shouldn't fall asleep here."

"I wasn't sleeping." _Just dreaming of revenge_. He opened his eyes and looked up as another soft feminine voice hesitantly spoke up.

"Ah…Someone wanted to see me? Do you know what's going on?" In front of him stood a tiny woman with long, inky black hair twisted into a loose braid. An even smaller girl, more a doll than a child, it was so very frail and small, leaned against her knees, secure under the hand laid protectively on her head, slanted eyes wide with curiosity.

Minh nodded. "Meiying, Lei…This is Mister Rex Ruthor. Mister Ruthor, this is Meiying, wife to Feng Lao."

"Feng Lao!" the tiny woman cried. She dropped to her knees, automatically gathering the child to her chest so she didn't fall right on top of her. "My husband. Is he alright? Did they hurt him?"

"No," Lex said. "He's fine. I just promised him I'd find you. It's over," he added. "I still don't know what exactly is going on here, but this, here, this is over. The temple will be cleared today."

Meiying exhaled, hugging her daughter to her. "Really? It's really over? We can go home now?"

"If I were you, I'd wait for my friend to arrive—tall guy, looks like a body guard—he has a nose for traps. But yes, you can go home." He made a mental note to tell the General to let Feng Lao go so he could welcome his wife. Maybe he should call McCarthy so he could take care of it.

He patted his pocket and realized he hadn't brought his American cell phone. _Then again, I probably won't have any connection down here._

"Lex? Where are you?"

He pushed himself up, back against the wall for support, and was surprised at the amount of energy that took him. Once standing, his head seemed very far from the ground. "Clark? I'm over here."

"Is that your friend?" Meiying asked, awed, gazing up and up at Clark as he appeared in the door opening. She couldn't be more than 5 foot, and was probably less. Clark must look like a giant to her.

Lex grinned crookedly. "Yes." _My weapon_. He waved his hand at the woman and her child. "Clark, let me introduce you to Han Meiying and Zhang Lei."

"Did you just introduce me?" Clark asked, reminding Lex that he'd spoken in Chinese. Lex nodded. "Ah. Ni hao and all that." He smiled his Colgate smile at Minh, Meiying and the little girl. "Do you speak English?" Minh nodded. Meiying shook her head. "We should go," he told Lex, speaking low and fast. "I already took care of most of the men in gray on this floor, but there are more. Not too much, though, maybe about thirty in total. And I've sprung the traps on the way out. Unless they're blind, these people should be able to get out relatively safely."

"Right," Lex nodded. He informed Minh of the situation, and she took charge with the efficiency of a career woman. Very soon, the aimlessly wandering group of released prisoners began to file out in neat rows under her direction. "Is Chloe all right?"

"She's safe, at least. What about them?" Clark asked, pointing at Meiying and Lei. "Wouldn't it be better to let them go with the rest?"

"I promised Feng Lao…"

"That you'd find them," Clark finished impatiently. "I know. You've told me about a hundred times. But you have found them, and I can't race you back to the hospital unless we're on our own. They'll be safe. The General will probably arrive in about half an hour—I made another entrance, or rather an exit. It opens in the mountains, not too far away from that other Buddha statue."

Despite the situation, Lex couldn't help himself. "How?" he asked. "How did you do that?" He lowered his voice to the barest whisper. "Did you run through the rock?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "No, I found a natural passage that only had a small rock in front of it, and I pushed it away. I think it used to be a real entrance at one point, but maybe it was buried in an avalanche. It is not important," he said sternly.

"So you ran into the General?"

"No. I phoned Lois the moment I got out of the underground passageway, telling her I'd found Chloe. Then I ran to the hotel, and she drove me to the hospital. It's quite close to the hotel. I told her to call her father and tell him he should search for the entrance to the temple further to the west and then ran out again to get you. I only hope he has his cell phone with him," he mused. "Now that I think of it, he might very well not have it with him."

"He'd be a fool if he didn't," Lex scoffed. He sighed, and leaned his head against the wall. Outside the room, in the hall, a child started crying. Meiying called out, and a small body whooshed past him, into her arms. "So Lane and his men will…"

"Rex!!" was all the warning he got, and then a slight woman with short hair darted past Clark and grasped his hands in an un-Asian display of affection. "You're here!" she exclaimed in English. "I couldn't believe it! Gods, what happened to you? You look awful! And who is this?" She stared up at Clark with open amazement.

_What's this? _Lex's bubbling mind provided instantly._  
What's this?_

A guy big like a tree, how queer  
And who would ever think  
And why?

"Crystal," Lex smiled, forcing Jack back down in the recesses of his mind. He'd almost forgotten Chloe had mentioned she was here, too. He was glad to see she was ok. "This is Clark Kent. He's an…associate of mine."

She shot him a smile that might have been flirtatious if it hadn't been so brief. "Did you see Chloe?" she continued, addressing Lex again. "She fell into one of those awful traps…"

"We took care of her," Clark interrupted. "Say, Crystal…can I call you Crystal? Could you do me a favor?"

"Eh, sure?"

Clark pointed at Meiying, who was still waiting quietly with her daughter and the other kid that had drifted in. "Could you take her out and make sure she gets back to the hotel? That's Mei…uh…Feng Lao's wife. He's…uh…he helped us find you people."

"He's the bell boy," Lex provided.

"Ah," said Crystal.

"With a bit of luck a few American soldiers will arrive as well. But you should just follow the stairs up, and then follow the writing on the wall to the exit," Lex said. "There's a tunnel that ends just behind the First Buddha, in the square."

"You don't say? Wow." She turned to Meiying and the children, chattering rapidly. They all nodded and followed her as she went for the door. Then she looked back. "What about you two?"

"We need to check something out first," Lex lied smoothly. "Be careful!"

When they were gone he heaved a deep sigh.

"Are you finally happy now?" Clark asked gruffly. "Or do you want me to walk THEM home as well?"

"Well, if you could…"

"No."

"I don't want to go to the hospital."

"Isn't that very sad for you?"

Lex sighed. "Clark…"

"No. I'm sick and tired of your self-sacrificial bullshit. I am going…"

"Clark. They can't do anything for me. I'm not actually hurt, I just need to get this poison out of my blood. I've been addicted before, it's no big deal for me."

"Oh, really," Clark drawled with disturbingly Lutherian sarcasm. "You're experienced in the art of going Cold Turkey."

"Actually, yes."

"And heart rhythm disturbances are no big deal either?"

Damn. Lex tried to produce a solid argument, but he was simply too exhausted to think of one. Then again capitulation, he remembered suddenly, sometimes got him what he wanted, too. He aimed for a suffering look, rubbed his forehead, and mumbled, "Clark, I am too tired to fight you on this. I just want to go to sleep. I don't want to be poked at, and examined, and drawn blood from, I just want to sleep. Do what you feel is right, as long as it has a bed and I can sleep in it for ten hours, ok?"

Clark moved his jaw as if he were chewing grass, then sighed, and Lex knew he wouldn't end up at the hospital. For a change, it wasn't so hard not to smile in victory. Neither was it hard not to make a comment about recently married couples when Clark picked him up in his arms. He just closed his eyes and only opened them when the wind stopped howling and the hotel entrance was right in front of him.

*

Clark picked up Lex's key at the counter, while Lex stood around the corner in a quasi-casual slouch against the wall, where Clark had dropped him off before blurring back outside and reentering more slowly. His heart wasn't doing that strange skipping thing anymore; it was beating quite regularly and strongly, just a little faster than Clark's own heart. His color was better, too, without those bluish shadows he'd had under eyes and jaws, and a hint of pink in his lips. Still…

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

Lex set out on a dogged swagger to the elevator. "Absolutely," he mumbled. "No more needles for me."

There was very little Clark could say to that. He decided to say nothing at all, just sighed, and rode up with Lex. His mother had called HIM stubborn, him and his dad. She'd obviously never tried to feel responsible for someone like Lex.

They had just arrived at Lex's room when the door to another room slammed open, and a young woman with a brown pony tail burst into the hallway.

Lois came running like a rhino pursued by a group of hunters. The relief she'd displayed earlier, when Clark had stumbled in with Chloe in his arms, was gone. Her narrowed eyes, focused on Lex as if Clark didn't even exist, sparked with anger; her hands were balled to hard fists at her side, and rising as she approached with an aggressive clatter of boot heels.

"If she hits me, I'll floor her," Lex murmured aloud. Clark didn't know whether it was a warning to him or just Lex voicing his thoughts, but he took a look from one livid face to the other one, heard more than saw Lex's tired muscles tense, and decided to spare everyone a lot of grief and stepped in.

Lois rushed into his lowered arm without even acknowledging it was there; if he hadn't moved his arm with the movement of her body she'd just slammed into it and probably broken a rib.

"You lying, crazy, sonofabitch!" she snarled at Lex, waving one fist as close to his face as she could with Clark holding her back. "What the hell were you thinking?! You could have got her killed!"

"Well, I didn't, did I?" Lex returned. He had somehow regained his grip on his emotions, and his current mask of cool indifference was as infuriatingly convincing as ever. "I got her back, and she's safe now."

"You lied to us! You lied to my dad! You knew she wasn't up on that mountain, and you'd rather drag your own sorry ass up there trying to be a hero than think about her safety!"

"I had a hunch," he said calmly. "It worked out. I didn't lie to anyone."

"No? Then why didn't you tell anyone where you were going? Why didn't you ask for backup? Huh? Just you and Clark, yeah, that's a really good idea! How did you get it into your doped-up head to take risks like that with Chloe?!"

"Since she's MINE, and since my hunch turned out to be correct," Lex said. "Stop trying to scratch my eyes out. I wouldn't take any chances with your cousin, so at least try to act like a sane person."

"YOU…!" Lois started, but Clark gave her a little shake.

"He's right, Lois," he soothed. "She's safe now, and that's what's important, isn't it? And it WAS a hunch, really. I'd never thought we would actually find the real entrance." He leaned a bit closer, pulling her further away from Lex. "If I'd thought he was for real, I'd have called you, you know that. I _told_ you. I was just humoring him. Really, it was dumb luck."

Lies. They came so easily, so convincingly. He was so, so good at lying to people.

"You should have called me anyway. When you found the entrance. You should have called me." She was still hurt and angry, but her hands had relaxed, and at least she wasn't spitting at Lex anymore.

"I know," Clark said. "And I'm sorry. I should have. But once we were underground I didn't have connection anymore, and by then…I'm sorry, Lois."

"I don't blame you." She turned to Lex with the clear intention to start railing at him again…but it would be the same as shouting at a sick animal. His pride kept him upright, his pride and the wall, and that was it.

_Or it's another mask. Oh, he's weak, and he's tired, but showing vulnerability the way he's showing it now…that's intentional. And…_He didn't know whether to be awed or to condemn it, _it's working._

Lois took a deep breath, blew it out, then took another one. Lex raised his chin, managing to be both pitiful and daring at the same time. Lois' hands relaxed. "I thoroughly and utterly detest you," she said grandly.

Lex finished her off with two words and one sentence, spoken softly and wholly sincerely. "I understand. Thank you for rescuing me all the same." No cynicism, no smirk, no mocking bow. He was far too exhausted to manage that—or played at it.

Lois took another breath. "I'm not going to say 'you're welcome'," she muttered. A woman scorned…She elbowed Clark in the side. "You owe me one, Smallville. And so do you, Luthor."

"Yes," he said regretfully. "I do."

"And don't you forget it." She turned on her heel. "I'm going back to the hospital. Dad sent me back to wait for you."

"Ah, so you managed to reach him?" Clark asked. "I was afraid he wouldn't have his phone with him."

"He didn't," she said curtly. "He has a pager. Well, you've arrived." She threw a smirk at Lex. "You can be sure he'll want to know every detail you've been up to. Every, single, detail. When he gets back. Are you coming, Clark?" She seemed to get, without a single protest from Lex, that he was not going to follow them to the hospital.

"Uh, yeah!" His eyes met Lex's. "Will you be ok?"

Lex nodded. "I'm going to sleep. Call me…would you call me if something's…wrong?"

"I will."

"Clark!?" Lois hollered from the other end of the hall.

"Coming!" he called back. And to Lex, "Good night."

"Thank you," Lex said softly. "And thank you for lying. Huh," he snorted, "thank you for this afternoon. Let me think of an appropriate reward when my brain functions again."

"Weapons need no rewards," Clark said. He nudged the other man's shoulder. "Go to sleep. I'll text you about Chloe. I'll call you if anything goes wrong. And I'll see you tomorrow."

Lex nodded. He opened his door and went inside without turning the light on. Clark turned around and jogged after Lois, catching up with her just before she reached the elevator.

TBC


	17. Chapter 16

Hey all. Sorry, I only just found out that my chapters weren't actually updated—at least they didn't show. Hope it works now. Sixteen: Clark Multitasks

When Lex stumbled into his room, he was almost exhausted enough to drop down on his bed fully clothed and succumb to sleep. Almost. Paranoia wouldn't let him. After all, there was no brawny soldier standing guard in front of his door to protect him from enraged men in gray, should they decide to storm the hotel and carry him back to Fengfei's basement.

There was no way he was going to wake up tied to a slab again. No. way.

His room was on the fifth floor, so he judged the chance of anyone coming in through the window as good as nil. Nevertheless he made sure the windows were locked. That left two doors: the one to the hallway, and the one leading to the room Chloe had never slept in.

He locked both, then frowned, considering the possibility of Gray Men in the staff, or other ways they might access the keys. After a moment, he pushed the single chair that was suitable for this purpose under the handle of the door to the hallway, and balanced a wine glass on the handle of the one to Chloe's room. He also shoved his suitcase against the door, so that if the glass should fall, it would hopefully make enough sound to wake him.

He forced himself to undress. Smears of Fu Yang's blood stained his clothes, and he didn't want to sleep with the scent of blood in his nostrils. The room was pleasantly warm, especially after the drafty underground halls. Removing Lois' bandage art from his chest took longer than he wanted, and hurt even though he didn't have any hair on his torso. The tape left ugly red stripes on his skin after he'd pulled it off. As he crawled into the bed he took a second to appreciate the delight of being able to curl up or lie on his stomach as he pleased; then sleep grabbed him like a grizzly and slammed him down into the mattress.

*

While Lex lay in a semi-coma, Clark had a very busy day. It was only three o clock, after all, and he still had a lot to do. He joined Lois at the hospital. The doctors there had taken Chloe away to make scans and X-rays, and put her in a bed to wait for the results of both scans and blood analysis. They didn't want to operate on her nor use any painkillers more powerful than aspirin until they knew what had been used to sedate her earlier.

Chloe was awake and relatively coherent, but as the drugs wore off she was in an increasing amount of pain, and she was badly afraid for some reason that the doctors would cut off her leg because of an infection.

Since she did not have a fever, Lois said it was improbable her wounds were infected, but Chloe was not assured until a doctor with a bit of English told her that while her injuries were decidedly unpleasant and would definitely need surgery, she had been taken care of adequately, and wouldn't lose her leg unless she managed to contract every stray germ in the hospital.

"And this hospital," he had added dryly, "has good leputation for cleanliness."

"Can I wash my hair, then?" Chloe had asked. "I haven't had a shower in days."

"I will send someone to come by," the doctor had promised, and then left her with Clark and Lois to wait until the sedative ran out.

Clark never found out exactly what the Temple people had given her, only that it did not cause the doctors worry, but had made them decide not to mix it with any other anesthetic. They would operate on her tomorrow.

"Where's Lex?" Chloe asked Lois at one point. "He looked awful. Why isn't he here? I thought you," this to Clark, "were going to take him to the hospital, too."

"He just wanted to sleep," Clark said. He saw Lois' curled lip from the corner of his eye, but to his relief she didn't say anything. "He didn't want to go to the hospital. I'm sure he'll come by as soon as he can."

"Is he sick? Did they hurt him?"

"You don't need to worry," said Lois, patting Chloe's hand reassuringly. "I'm sure he'll be fine after a good night's rest. He'd have come to see you if he could; he's had a pretty rough week."

Chloe was not so far gone she couldn't smile at this astonishingly friendly speech. "Either I should be shrieking with anxiety because you're keeping me in the dark about the truth on purpose, or you're feeling sorry for him," she said, half teasing, half worried..

Lois snorted. "I wouldn't lie to you for _Lex_," she said. Then she shrugged. "Like I said, he's had a pretty bad week, as much as I know about it. It didn't stop him from royally pissing me off, running off with Clark and rescuing you, so I guess he's not too badly damaged. Really, sweetie," again she squeezed Chloe's hand, "We've got much more reason to be worried about YOU, and YOU're gonna be fine. Doctor just said so. So why don't you try to sleep for a bit, huh?"

Chloe seemed unwilling to go to sleep. She asked Lois about mundane things, about the Planet, about her articles and interviews. Lois replied in her own sharp, sometimes vulgarly humorous way, surprising Clark with her often dauntingly accurate views on political situations. For some reason, it was so easy to forget, when confronted with her brash personality, that she really was an excellent reporter, even if she couldn't spell. Beneath all that overly emancipated behavior lay a quick mind and a superb sense of assessment. What was more: beneath that unhealthily-independent-woman façade was a person who cared enough about her cousin to swallow her indignation at being left out and lied to; who only wanted said cousin safe, and who, despite her inability to sit still for longer than five minutes, hadn't moved a muscle since she'd taken the chair next to Chloe's bed.

Even when Chloe's eyes started to droop, Lois only lowered her voice a little, keeping up a steady, soothing flow of words, and remained seated without showing the slightest inclination to run out to fulfill her smoking needs.

"I left them in my room," she said, when Clark asked her whether she needed a cigarette break. "It's ok. I can do without for a while."

Clark was ashamed to admit to himself that he wasn't half as good at bed-sitting as Lois. After about forty-five minutes of fidgeting beside her bed while Chloe drifted in and out of sleep, he decided he could be more useful elsewhere and excused himself. He needed a shower himself, he told Lois, and offered to get her a book at the hotel so she'd have something to do when Chloe fell asleep.

She agreed with him. The General had texted her that he had found the entrance to the temple. He had sent McCarthy back down the mountain with the ponies, Miss Zhen, and one of his soldiers, and entered the temple with the remaining four. They wouldn't be back before dark. He'd ordered Lois to stay with Chloe and Lex and remain with them until the General was back. Clark didn't know if she'd told her father that Lex was not at the hospital. Somehow, he didn't think so, especially since she said, "Maybe you can check whether Lex is alright, when you go and get your shower. So he doesn't, you know," she peeked at Chloe, who was drowsing, "choke, or something."

He hid a smile. "That's a good idea. And a book? You brought a book, didn't you?"

She nodded her head at her bag. "Already picked it up when I went back to the hotel to wait for you and Luthor."

"Will you be alright on your own, here?" He didn't want Lois to end up as a sadist's guinea pig, too.

Lois, however, smiled mockingly, and he remembered how she had beat up a group of trained military men in the first week they'd met. If anyone would try to do as much as disturb Chloe's slumber she'd make mincemeat out of them.

"Right," he said, "I forgot, you can take care of yourself." She grinned. "Well, if, at one point, you can't, just call me. I won't be far away."

"Mm," she mused. "You always DO seem around to rescue the odd damsel in distress or astray billionaire."

Clark shrugged. "It comes with my reporter powers. I have a nose for first page stories, and being in time to rescue people comes with it."

"Uhuh."

He cast a final glance at Chloe, whose eyelids were flickering, but who definitely couldn't be classified as awake, again feeling anger rising at the people responsible for her condition.

"I'll look after her," Lois said firmly. "Go and have a shower. Check on your bald friend. I'll be fine here."

Clark nodded, and was off.

He did go to the hotel to check on Lex, which he did by listening at his door and peeking through it. Lex, as far as he could see and hear, was sleeping soundly, and did not seem to be in any danger of choking or having a heart attack. Good.

He left the hotel and ran to the Statue in the square. The prisoners of the temple had emerged from the depths of the mountain, and one of them had apparently found a cell phone somewhere, or had called at a nearby house. Several cars were parked around the Buddha, including an ambulance and two police cars. People were milling about, hugging and crying, and distributing blankets.

He felt a stab of guilt for not coming back earlier so he could have helped them, but then again, he'd made sure they could leave safely and the ambulance personnel was handing out hot tea instead of medicine. They'd be fine.

He ducked away when he recognized the woman Lex had called Crystal. True to her word she still had the tiny woman with the long braid and the little girl in her care. Feng Lao. That was right.

He blurred back to the hotel, found the room where they'd locked up the bellboy, and set him free, telling him his wife was about to come home. Feng Lao's face lit up in the first real smile Clark had ever seen on his face, and he ran out so fast Clark wasn't sure he could have kept up with the guy. General Lane might not be quite as happy with Feng Lao's sudden disappearance, but Clark was prepared to take any blame. Come on, when your wife and child finally got back from being kidnapped, surely a man could be excused to go and meet them.

Satisfied with a job as a messenger of positive news well done, Clark left the hotel for the second time and jogged up the mountain to enter the underground temple through the new entrance he'd made, near the statue of the Buddha up there.

"First Buddha, second Buddha," he muttered as he sauntered through the hallways, casually setting off traps as he went. "It's no wonder no one knew which Buddha was the right one." He still didn't understand how Lex understood so quickly that the entrance to the temple was to be found IN the village, and not somewhere up in the mountains, where the statue originally stood. Then again, he didn't understand how Lex's mind worked most of the time, so that wasn't much of a surprise either.

_I only know that he loses it, sometimes._ He halted in place, struck by the memory of the man he knew mainly as a vaguely ominous outline behind a desk, hooking his fingers into the wound in another man's cheek and pulling the flesh until the teeth showed. _That guy. Crap! I forgot all about that guy!_

Falling into a trot, he caught a few poisonous darts that shot from the wall as he stepped on a hidden button in his hand, and quickly made his way over to the safe room deeper into the temple. It took some searching, since he'd entered it from a different direction, and once he had to duck out of the way of General Lane and his men, who were investigating the temple as well, but after about five minutes he found the narrow path to the room, complete with the odd drop of blood on the ground.

The blood made him feel a bit nauseous. It also disturbed him to some account that he felt the need to take this Fi or Fu-something to a safe place and patch him up in order to hear his story, instead of trusting Lex to have a good reason for doing what he did to him. In this context, he could probably be sure that Lex cut him to ribbons because he really HAD tortured Lex. But Clark was so used to Lex twisting the truth to make it fit his purpose, he, at the sight of the blood, had to ball his fists to keep from running back to the hotel and dragging Lex out of bed to accuse him of heinous crimes.

Sad, wasn't it? How he had become incapable of trusting the man, even though they had more or less resolved their differences last year. _Then he was still bleeding when I picked him up, _Clark contemplated. _Is that why I was so shocked this time? Because I can't actually see his injuries this time? Is that what makes it so easy for other people to dismiss the effects Kryptonite has on me? Because they disappear the moment I'm away from it?_

He frowned, and pushed the thought away. He'd never been good at analyzing other people's feeling, and trying to do it with himself made him uneasy, because he didn't know if he could actually compare his own feelings with those of human people. His parents had always assured him that he was human in every way but his powers, but sometimes he wasn't entirely sure they were right.

And I don't need this right now.

He entered the room. It was empty.

Shit.

He had put the man on a blanket on the ground, bandaged the worse of his injuries and tied him up, and now he was gone.

_SHIT_.

All of a sudden, Lex's motives to slice the guy to bits were irrelevant compared to the fact that he was NO LONGER HERE.

There was no way the man could have freed himself, so someone must have come and gotten him out. And even if Fuji would not be capable of taking revenge, Clark no longer felt all that easy about leaving Lex on his own at the hotel.

He made another few rounds through the temple, finding another secret door he decided to leave alone for the moment, but all the men in gray had either left or were being rounded up by General Lane and his men.

_I'll come back later, _he promised himself. _With my camera and the means to make a map. Check out that door over there. But not now._

He set off a final trap and hurried back to the hotel.

*

When the General finally arrived it was eight in the evening. Clark was in his room, combining vigilance with his professional need to keep up to date with the news. He had run to and from the hospital a few times, making sure Lois and Chloe were not beset by razor-wielding psychos, and that Lex was safe as well (once making a detour to rescue a teen from either drowning or freezing to death in a nearby stream, and once to rescue the same chickens from the same dog). Lois had agreed with him that he should stay at the hotel, and only relieve her for a smoking break once in a while. She had started on the Ludlum novel she attempted to read every time she traveled. Chloe was fast asleep by now.

McCarthy and the other soldier, whose name Clark kept forgetting, had arrived a few hours earlier, but had left almost immediately. He presumed to interview the rescued prisoners, or perhaps to interrogate people. He would have liked to have tagged along, but since he only realized that it might be a good idea to ask Shanyuang's bodyguards to stand guard at Lex's door when McCarthy was gone, and they even talked about not seeking him out, he remained where he was and zapped to another channel.

Lex was still sleeping. Once in a while he made small, distressed sounds, but he never woke up, so Clark left him in peace—or maybe not peace, but at least sleep.

When the General strode across the hall with great clomping steps, Clark winced and readjusted his hearing. Someone, he thought the soldier named Thompson, was with him, and they were talking to one another in low tones. After all these hours being tuned in to the respiration and heartbeat of a man two doors down, first the ping of the elevator, then the sound of their feet and their hushed conversation blared into his ears like an alp horn.

"…be sure that he was right," Lane was saying.

"Sir," Thompson replied in the easy tone that showed that he'd known the man he was speaking to for a long time and was comfortable with his presence as well as his higher rank, "with all due respect, we searched for hours before we found that passage, and it wasn't at the Buddha's back at all."

"Could be because of an avalanche."

"Sir, you know…"

"Damn it, Thompson, yes, I know. The brat led us on a wild goose chase. What do you want me to do? Slap his ears and tell him he's been a bad boy?"

"I don't like being made a fool, sir. And that's what he did: he used us, for some reason. I mean, sir, what did your dau…Miss Lane say? 'He had a hunch?' He had a HUNCH that it might not be the Buddha in the mountains that hid the entrance, but the one in the square instead? Please. I was there when he questioned that guy. I KNEW something was going on."

"I know."

"So why are we so worried about him? Why even consider pampering? If the man could walk all the way up to the temple—I timed it when we came out, it's about thirty minutes—rescue his girlfriend, and walk back out unscathed with as his only help that Kent boy, Sir, I'm sorry, but he seems to be doing pretty darn fine to me. Sir."

"Don't underestimate a Luthor." General Lane said it with obvious distaste.

"Sir?"

"Either Junior OR Senior. Look, I don't like either one of them. Personally, I mean. Heck, I only met the elder three times, and the brat twice. Both of them make my skin crawl. But they can achieve things ordinary people—even rich, powerful people, richer and more powerful than them, by rights—can't even dream of."

"So what are you saying, Sir? Are you afraid of the Luthors? You're going to play nice to the brat because you're afraid they'll…"

"I," Lane spat, "am not afraid of anyone. Not Lionel, and most certainly not his son. But tell me, have you ever met a non-military person who could organize a rescue party and plan a retrieval mission in a non-Geneva country within three days? No, I didn't think so. Then what about a guy who's been tortured and shot up and kept in a basement for over a week, who walks out from under your hand all doped up to go and successfully perform the rescue operation, on his own, with a bleedin' REPORTER as his sidekick, that YOU've been recruited for with five trained men?"

A short silence. Then, "Right. That is rather…unusual."

"It's a frickin INSULT, that's what it is," Lane growled. "If the brat wore stripes, I'd have him court-martialed for contempt. Since he doesn't, and his daddy finances everything, damn it, yes: I'm going to play nice to the brat. I told Lionel I was going to get his son out in one piece, and I'm going to live up to that, whether Junior agrees with it or not.

'Now, I don't know a thing about the stuff they injected him with, but he looked pretty fucked up this afternoon. Last situation I want to be in is when Lionel steps off his plane in three days and I have to tell him that yeah, his offspring's out of the cellar but he's died of the side effects of illegal substances after stealing my job. So I'm checking on him, and if his color doesn't agree with me, we're hauling his ass off to the hospital kicking and screaming.

'And we do it with a respectful word and a smile on our faces. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yessir."

"Good." A knock on wood, sharp but polite. "Mister Luthor? It's Sam Lane. Are you awake?"

Lex, Clark heard, stirred, but remained asleep.

The General knocked again, this time less graciously. "Luthor? You in here? Could you please open the door? I want to speak to you." The sound of a door handle being turned. To Clark's surprise, something that sounded like glass hit a hard surface. It did not break, though. "What the hell was that? It's locked. Either he's gone AWOL AGAIN and locked it behind him, or he's in and he's in a coma. Give me the key."

"Yessir."

One more sharp knock and the request to enter, and below it all Lex's slow, deep, breathing. Clark grinned widely, just to get it out of his system, then went into the hallway. The doors were quite thick, but that last rap would surely have reached through the solid oak.

"General," he greeted, just as the man thrust the key into the lock. "Is everything alright?"

"Luthor's not answering," Thompson replied in his stead.

"Have you tried calling him by phone?" he suggested innocently.

"If he didn't hear me calling," Lane argued, "he won't hear the phone either. It's stuck. Do these doors have other locks than this one?"

"I don't think so," Clark said. "But mine opens a bit difficult. If I may…" He gently shouldered past Thompson and gave the door a light push. The General was right; there was something obstructing the door. He pushed harder, and it opened with a heavy scraping sound.

"Get behind me," Thompson said, and pushed him back, while the General stepped into Lex's pitch dark room and almost broke a leg over the suitcase lying in front of the door.

"The hell…!" He took another step to keep upright and produced a heavy crunching noise—like when one accidentally steps on a glass and breaks it.

"Stay right where you are," Lex's voice, slurry with sleep but deadly serious nonetheless spoke up from the darkness. "Or I will shoot you."

He was sitting up straight in his bed, and was, Clark observed, holding exactly nothing in his hands. When he produced a convincing click like the cocking of a gun, Clark had no idea how he did it. With his tongue, he guessed.

"It's General Lane," the General said, swiftly but calm. "Hold your fire."

"It's ok, Lex," Clark said hastily, more for the sake of Lex's peace of mind than for fear the imaginary gun would go off. "It's just us, General Lane and Thompson and me."

A light bloomed up beside the bed, causing all in the room and door opening to blink and squeeze their eyes half-shut.

"You don't have a gun," Thompson observed.

Lex shot Clark an accusing glance. "No," he agreed. "I don't."

"What would you have done if we had been hostile intruders?"

"Bashed your head in with the lamp, I guess." He leaned his back against the headboard, almost as if it were the back of his office chair. "So what is it?" he asked, rubbing one eye while focusing the other on the General. "Is something wrong with Chloe?"

"No, she's fine. That is to say, she's at the hospital. Condition hasn't changed. It's you I wanted to see. You didn't open your door."

"I was _asleep_," Lex said somewhat crabbily.

"I almost broke the door in."

"I was DEEPLY asleep."

"So I noticed." Lane studied him with his arms crossed over his chest. "I heard you wouldn't go to the hospital to have yourself checked out."

"All I need is a good night sleep," Lex said. "Unfortunately, it seems that is the one thing that is not permitted to me."

"Mister Luthor, I was assigned to this mission to…"

"By me," Lex interrupted.

"Excuse me?"

"I was the one who assigned you to this mission. I specifically requested you to lead this mission. You did exactly what I'd hoped you would do. General, you've succeeded. The mission was a success. All hostages have been set free."

"By YOU!" the General barked, apparently forgetting his own rules. He turned on the main light, crunched his way over to the bed, and glared down on the slim, naked upper body rising out of the nest of duvet and sheets. Lex glared right back. Apart from a few pink scars here and there, and his face with its shadowed eyes, he looked healthier than most ordinary people after a night of heavy drinking. What he did not look like, was the victim of a recent torture experience. He was shivering a little, but that could be because he wasn't submerged in blankets anymore.

Clark wondered if Lex was significantly thinner than he'd been the last time Clark had seen him naked. He couldn't remember. At the time, he hadn't been focusing on weight. And he didn't really want to think about it, either.

"You say you called us here," General Lane said, "well, I heard that tape, and yeah, you did. Then why did you mislead us and go searching for Chloe on your own?"

"Because I had a hunch!" Lex exclaimed, managing to drawl and snap at the same time. "How many times do I have to say this? I'm sorry I stole your glory, General; honestly, I wish it had been you stomping through that temple instead of me. It was plain coincidence."

"I don't believe you."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Lex drawled, and Clark remembered that tone, and that slightly hurt, patient look, Lex's body language, and everything else about this situation, because he'd seen it a hundred times before—only then the act was performed for him personally. He watched with awe how Lex did it again: turning the accusation around, refuting it, explaining himself without telling a single solid truth, and finally cutting the conversation off with a short, righteously annoyed "Can we please discuss this tomorrow? I would like to get some more rest." He didn't add, 'you can let yourself out.', but Clark heard it nevertheless. He had no doubt that the General heard it as well.

"Fine," Sam Lane snarled. "Have a nice rest. We'll continue this conversation tomorrow morning."

"It'll be my pleasure," Lex drawled, and turned off the bedside light before they had left the room.

The General's hand twitched over the main light switch, and for a moment Clark thought he would leave it on. But the General was less childish than Clark, or perhaps his self-control was better. He slapped out the light with his palm, and stalked out of the room.

"Don't cut your feet on the glass tomorrow morning." Hope that Lex would end up with bleeding foot soles dripped from his voice.

Lex did not reply. He huffed out an indignant breath and immediately went to sleep again.

"Thompson, you stay here and stand guard. I'll send someone to replace you in a few hours. Find yourself a chair and a table, order yourself something to eat and make sure he doesn't leave. And now for you," Lois' dad said threateningly. "Mister Kent."

Clark looked at dumb and innocent as he could, adding a smile for good measure. "I'm all yours, Sir. Although I'm afraid I have to agree with Lex. It was dumb luck we found the underground temple."

"Dumb luck you didn't fall into any of those traps, either?"

"Well…" He lifted one of his feet, showing his torn shoes. "I almost ended up pinned like a bug, Sir."

"Good God. Why'd you keep them on?"

"Uh…" He'd kept on his shoes because he hardly noticed the holes. The edges of the holes rubbed against his foot, but not hardly enough to cause any inconvenience. It was the same with clothes: he didn't really need them for anything but decorum. Odd, really. He could feel the touch of Lana's fingers on his face, but never registered heat, or cold, or whether something was hard, sharp, elastic or soft. To him, everything was soft; only some things were less giving than others. Experience, observation and habit had taught him how to react to ice, snow, and sunlight. The only natural force that ever influenced him was the sun. He loved the sun. He was never cold, but sunlight filled his head with a golden glow and his body with an unlimited energy.

Neither alcohol nor drugs, during his brief try at humanity, had ever intoxicated him anywhere near the effects of an afternoon spent naked on a beach in the full glare of the tropical sun.

Haven't done that in a very long time. Too long.

"To make a point," he finished lamely.

"What kind of point may that be, then?"

"That it was a pretty stupid thing to do, and that both Lex and I have an insane amount of luck, sir. And he can be…persuasive." He did not feel any guilt about putting the blame on Lex. Let him deal with the angry looks. He was used to it, anyway.

"Huh." Lane growled, but he searched around in his pocket and came up with a cigar stub. When he put it in his mouth, Clark got the feeling he was dismissed. That was good. With both Chloe and Lex safe, he had some other things to do.

One was to find Fu Yang.

One was to explore the temple because…well, ancient, subterranean temple!!

And one was to find out what exactly was hidden INSIDE the temple.

The General held him up for a few more minutes, asking for details about the way he'd rescued the people kept prisoner. Clark kept his answers short, simple, and as plausible as possible. He was quite good at playing the farm boy. When Lane let him go, with only a minor reprimand for releasing Feng Lao and being an all-around careless idiot, Clark was happy to know he would not be put on the bench for the remainder of his stay in China.

Good.

He told the General he'd go and see Lois and Chloe for the final time this evening, packed his camera and left the hotel again.

*

Lois had fallen asleep over her Ludlum. Chloe was asleep as well. Joey the soldier looked away from the staring contest he'd initiated with one of Shanyuang's body guards, nodded at Clark and went back to facing his Chinese guard in arms.

Assured that the girls were well taken care of, Clark left and jogged over to the square. Police were swarming all over the place; they had put tape around the Buddha and the entrance, so he shrugged and took the mountain entrance instead. The police had invaded the temple as well, so he had to be on his guard, but that did not stop him from exploring the ancient hallways at his leisure.

While he was walking he sketched a map on a page of his notebook, taking a different page for every floor. After about half an hour he had deduced that the underground temple consisted of four stories, with the stairs to the next floor at a distance of one fourth of the width of the floor. From the top, looking through the rock, the stairs were at the positions 12, 3, 6 and 9 of the clock. (He did this, and huh!-ed as he saw it).

The secret passage to the room where he had left Fuji was on the second level. The so far uninvestigated hidden tunnel he'd noticed during his second visit started at roughly the same place on the third level.

While the first two levels had been all but entirely stripped of ornamentation, the third floor still contained several statues, amongst others the great statue he and Lex had passed on their way to the sick bay. There was another one of Shiva, still holding traces of blue paint, his four arms carrying swords, with two blades crossing over his face. A few halls closer to the center, a similar statue guarded a forced door. This one was white instead of blue.

At first, Clark didn't even notice, but as he sought out the perfect place to take a picture of the statue (one was a tourist and a reporter or one wasn't), it struck him. White, not blue. He took his picture, then stepped closer so he could peer up behind the blades and photograph the statue's face.

Closed eyes, plump lips, chubby cheeks. A white deity. Buddha, not Shiva. With swords.

He blurred back to the blue statue and checked out the face as well. It had a wide, grinning mouth and wide, black eyes. That was Shiva alright.

Curious.

After taking a picture of Shiva's face as well, he went back to his casual exploration. Once he had to duck away from the police, but he saw no gray men. Of course, if any of those had shed his gray clothes and donned a police uniform it wasn't as if he would notice.

He waited until he was alone again, and finally had the chance to study the hidden door. It was covered by a slab of rock with another faded drawing on it—too faded to make out. The only way he knew it was a door was because he could see the pathway behind it.

Clark randomly pressed the wall for a while, loath to destroy such an ancient mechanism purely to satisfy his curiosity, but the door wouldn't budge. Neither could he detect a door anywhere in the painting. Only when he started searching for a pivot of some kind he suddenly bumped into a broken statue he'd thought was a torch holder. When he turned it upside down, the door slid open, revealing a narrow, winding hallway.

Ha. Eat your heart out, Lex.

He stepped inside, noticing that the door lowered almost immediately once he was through. At his second step, the stone under his foot sank beneath the surface of the floor, and a small hail of darts pattered harmlessly against his chest.

_Right. Trapped. That's promising._ He brushed the darts from his sweater, keeping one for his archive. As he studied the walls, he found more recesses either containing darts or just emptied of them. If he looked hard enough, he could follow the mechanism that launched them and steer clear of those pressure stones…then again, there were creatures, inquisitive creatures like Lois, and Lex, and possibly that Crystal woman, not to mention Chloe's uncle and his men…

Clark walked through the passage, carefully setting off every trap he could find, only wincing when a dart struck him in the eye. It didn't exactly hurt, but the poison on its tip burned a little, and in any case being hit in the eye wasn't pleasant. When he was human he'd once managed to get a fly in his eye—Kansas in summer had a lot of flies. He'd been surprised at the agonizing pain such a small thing could cause. _I'd probably have died about a hundred times over, if I hadn't been me, _he reflected as a steel spike thrust out of the wall and bent double against his arm. _Actually, I'm surprised this place isn't littered with bodies. _

There were no bodies.

What did appear in the darkness, was a round, bare circle on the floor that also signified the end of the passage. Clark checked the wall behind the circle, but it was solid, the nearest tunnel far away. Two small bas-reliefs were faintly visible in the gloom. He turned on his camera, and in the light he could make out the details: Buddha and Shiva again. The first had half-closed eyes that glittered in the light of the camera. It stood with its left arm stretched out toward Shiva. Shiva's eyes were dark and empty, but the hand stretched out to the Buddha on its right held a sword.

Clark frowned, and leaned closer. The sword cast a deeper shadow in the glare of his camera than the embossed figures. Also, while it appeared to be in Shiva's hand, it wasn't actually connected to the statue. When he studied the figures more closely, he noticed that there was a narrow groove in the stone, running between Shiva's right hand and Buddha's left. Tentatively, he nudged the sword with his finger. It moved a fraction of an inch. Beneath his feet, the stone circle quivered.

Got it. Cool.

With the greatest of care, Clark pushed the sword from Shiva to Buddha. The moment it came to a stop in the Buddha's hand, the gleam in its eyes vanished and appeared, viciously, in Shiva's eyes.

The stone under his feet made a low, grating sound. Then it slowly began to descend.

TBC


	18. Chapter 17

Seventeen: Clark Raids Temples and Lex Unravels Part of the Mystery

The elevator sank deep, much deeper than Clark thought it would. Deeper than the fourth floor. There were no hallways here, just a few natural caves and hollows. When the platform finally rumbled to a standstill, it was in a small, low room much like the one Clark had just left. A machine purred softly in the corner.

A cord hung down from the ceiling and brushed against his face as he stepped off the circle. He followed it with his eyes and laughed as he realized what it was. Clark pulled the cord, and light flooded the area. A number of bare light bulbs were spread over the ceiling and the walls, fed electricity by the generator in the corner.

_How anachronistic_, he thought, grinning.

The room was oval in shape, and its diameter was roughly 13 feet. The elevator was situated in the center, and the shadowy outline of a door appeared in the wall at 2 o' clock. The presence of a door was surprising, but what caught Clark's eye was the covering of the walls.

Every part of the wall, except the door and right above the generator, was hung with scrolls. They glittered in the light.

At first, Clark was too dazzled by the ancient parchments to notice the strange way they gleamed; they were covered in spindly writing, both characters and other script, with a few drawings of flowers in between the text. Only after a few minutes he noticed that the scrolls had been neatly plasticised.

_Eh?_

He touched one. Yes, its surface was smooth, the parchment protected by a layer of modern technology.

Part of him was disappointed—when one went tomb raiding, one did not expect the treasures to be treated like a mouse mat. Another part of him was impressed with the preservative spirit displayed here. Surely these scrolls could not be protected in a better way. Two had been plasticized too late; they were badly damaged.

He took pictures of each and every scroll. Whether they were in Chinese or in another language he didn't know, but he couldn't read them. Perhaps Lex could. Or that McCarthy fellow. Or Shanyuang. Shanyuang probably could, but the chauvinistic part of Clark was oddly reluctant to ask a Chinese for help translating a Chinese text he, Clark, had found.

The room's only function seemed to be to house the scrolls. At least, he could find nothing else of interest. He wasted a few moments dubbing whether to take one of the scrolls with him, but decided against it. He had his pictures; if it tuned out he needed an original as well, he could always return and get it.

Satisfied that there truly was nothing else but the scrolls in the elevator room, he opened the door on the other side. Another hallway, this one relatively straight and obviously man-made. No traps. He followed it for about three hundred feet, and then it ended at another elevator. This one looked more modern than the first one he'd encountered, and was operated by levers and buttons. It could either go up or down.

With a shrug, he entered the cage, flipped the lever, and went down. He ended up in a large room stuffed with scientific-looking equipment: petri dishes, Erlenmeyer, burners, microscopes, or rather, one microscope, and several vials and pots filled with Chinese-labeled stuff. In one corner of the room a bed of purple flowers bloomed under a heat lamp.

The laboratory. This is where they made their stuff.

And had it made; three neat rows of glass vials for hypothermic syringes twinkled in the gleam of the heat lamp in a holder on a table covered in pages with notes. In Chinese.

Clark hesitated. Then he picked up one of the vials, and gathered the notes together. Lex seemed to be doing better now, but Clark hadn't forgotten that mad cadence of his heartbeat, and he didn't know what would happen if the man just stopped taking the substances that Fuji guy had been injecting him with on a regular basis.

A cool box stood below a table. When he opened it, he found several samples of what looked to blood like him. Lex's blood? He shivered. There were quite a lot of them.

On one table he found a box filled with tranquilizer darts, and next to that, a glass pot with the same green-black goo he'd scraped off of such a dart before. A smaller box with darts that looked more like needles lay beside the tranquilizers. To replace the darts shot from the traps into unsuspecting visitors of the temple, Clark gathered.

He wondered if he should destroy this lab. It would probably be for the best…but what if they needed to bring up evidence to get certain people convicted? In the end he took pictures of everything present in the room, picked one of the flowers and put it in a plastic vial for safekeeping. Then, unable to come up with anything else he could do here, he went back to the elevator and rode it up as far as it would go.

He ended up in another, smaller, room with a door. The door was locked, but opened easily after he forced the lock. More hallways, but these he recognized after the first turn: he was back on the third floor. The tunnel he was walking in right now was the tunnel without a door that ended in the safe room where he had left Fu Yang.

A few minutes later he ended up in that room, and he used the table to update his map.

So.

This temple guarded a few statues, a cool elevator, a mad scientist lab and a bunch of scrolls. How…disappointing. He couldn't help feeling a bit cheated. No painted prophesies about a lost star's last son, no hidden treasures, not even Kryptonite. Could it be that he had come to a place where his presence actually didn't mean anything? He had become so used to references to his birth place popping up in caves, temples and ancient writings he could hardly believe there weren't any in here.

He made another tour of the temple.

No, there really wasn't any kryptonite. He felt fine wherever he went. Neither was there any other image to be found than either Buddha's or Shiva's, nor a hide-out for bleeding criminals. Wherever Fuji was, it wasn't here, and that did worry him some.

What he did find was Chloe's bag, somewhere in a cell on the third floor. He hung it around his neck, guessing she'd want it back. Women seemed to regard their purses as some kind of pet, and always were greatly inconvenienced when they misplaced it.

By now it was almost midnight, and he guessed he should return to the hotel before the General raised the alarm about him. Besides, he was starving. And tired. Today had been a rather eventful day, and he somehow was convinced tomorrow would be just as much fun.

He took a final picture of a faded fresco, replaced the cap of his camera lens and sped back to the village.

*

Lex appeared at breakfast the following morning, looking pale and shaky, but facing General Lane, his men, and his daughter with a haughty expression on his face. The haughtiness crumbled the moment Shanyuang and Crystal—who, Clark realized, must have returned to the hotel together with the other Sparkling Sources prisoners, and told her father that Lex and Chloe had been freed as well—got up from their table and greeted him with genuine pleasure. He smiled, returned their hand shakes, let them drag him to their table.

"I'll be damned," Clark heard Thompson whisper to one of his mates when Shanyuang smiled un-Asian wide and pumped Lex's hand up and down as he shook it, "they really like him."

"Why shouldn't they?" the other soldier returned with a Yankee twang. The nametag over his breast pocket read Hewitt. "Wouldn't be fair if everyone hated him, would it?"

"Are you kidding me?" Thompson hissed, but his friend just grinned around a mouthful of bread and said,

"T'be honest, every civvie who can convince the General he's got a loaded gun pointed at him and he's holdin' nothing'? Respect. Really."

While Lex chatted and ate with the Sparkling Sources people, Lois got up and said she would leave for the hospital. Chloe was scheduled to be operated at ten, and she wanted to wish her good luck before she went under. Clark decided to go with her, and finished his last three rolls in four bites. He could talk to Lex about the scrolls later. And Chloe would probably appreciate to know her purse had been saved from the depth of the temple.

She was.

She was hungry, and in pain, and scared of being operated on by people who wouldn't understand her if she were to wake up in the middle of the operation—but seeing her bag made her gawk and then laugh out loud, and she stroked it lovingly before she was fetched for the operation.

"Where'd you find that?" Lois asked, as she walked along with him to the entrance hall, her cigarette already tucked between her lips.

"Temple. Yesterday," he added, as she raised her eyebrows. "I forgot to give it to her. I left it in my room."

"Ah." Smooth lie, smooth belief.

"Are you going to stay here?"

She lit her cigarette just before she pushed the door open, and blew out her first lungful of smoke outside. "Yeah. I brought my Ludlum. Hell, we just got her back. I'm not going to let her out of my sight until we're all safely back home. What about you?"

"I'm not very good at sitting at bedsides…"

"I wasn't being accusative. Nor expecting you to stay with me." She took another draw. "Just curious what you're going to be up to."

"I need to talk to Lex."

"Huh." She blew out smoke through her nose. "The gallant boyfriend who isn't here to tell his girlfriend good luck."

Clark ignored her. He had an inkling why Lex didn't want to leave the hotel. Clark himself didn't want him to leave the hotel, not with Fuji or any of his close followers on the loose. "We still need to find out what on earth is going on here. I mean, gray-clad men with dart pipes? The hell?"

"I know what you're saying." She nodded sagely, then thumped his arm with a hard fist. He could hear the slap it made on his flesh, even if he hardly felt it. "Make sure you get written confessions! And translated ones! And take pictures, too. And don't let Lex befuddle you with those lies and half-truths of his. Don't look at me like that, I know how you react to him. You storm into his room ready to tear his tongue out and he always, ALWAYS manages to blow you off."

"As opposed to you," Clark shot back. "Who always succeeds when trying to antagonize him."

Whenever Lois felt the need to vent against Lex in person, she came armed with a suitcase of files and facts she was convinced should send him howling for cover with his tail between his legs. Thankfully, those moods came over her less than twice a year. So far, Lois had done the howling, not Lex, and not with fear but frustration and anger. Lex's most effective reply was, and always had been 'Why, that sounds like libel to me, Miss Lane. Are you quite sure you wish to publish these accusations?" He had sewed the Daily Planet for libel twice, and won both times. Lawsuits made Perry unhappy, and Perry was very good at venting his displeasure on those he blamed for his negative state of mind. A frustrated and angry Lois was not a thing to be relished.

Clark wasn't the only one Lex knew how to manipulate with a few choice words.

(Those that had made Lois actually bruise her hands as she slammed them down on the table in fury had been "I'm so sorry, Miss Lane. You were so close. You almost had me worried, there. Still, persevere! Maybe you'll succeed one day. I'm sure that as the Daily Planet's star reporter, you can survive a few more court cases before they've finally had it with you and toss you out.")

And Lois took it significantly less gracefully than Clark.

"Huh," she grumbled. "I'll get him yet."

"Give him a break, will you?"

She blew out a big cloud, suddenly smiling. "I will. But he owes me one. And I'm not going to let him forget about that."

"I doubt you'll have to remind him," Clark said.

*

At breakfast, Lex forced as much food down his throat as he could stomach. He needed to build up some strength to get through what would follow, whatever that would be. He'd already been through the first stages of withdrawal—when Lois entered Fengfei's basement and cut him free—and he wasn't looking forward to it. Then again, at the time, he'd been half-starved and semi-dehydrated. His conditions were a lot better now. Still, his mouth went dry whenever he remembered the basement, the pain and the sickness, and he had to chase down every bite with coffee and orange juice to send it down his gullet. Being distracted by Shanyuang and his colleagues helped; it really was heartwarming how glad they appeared to see him.

He wasn't feeling so well. Not being tied up made a difference, and being able to drink his fill and have something in his stomach steadied him, but his stomach ached, he was vaguely nauseous and his fingers wouldn't stop trembling.

Drinking coffee was pure bliss, even though he knew it wasn't the best thing to drink when having stomach problems. The smell alone almost made him sink down on his knees in reverence.

_Chloe's addicted to the stuff as well_. He hoped she was doing alright. Was she going to need surgery? If so, when were they going to perform it? Lois and Clark would know, he supposed, but he hadn't had the chance to talk to either of them yet. He looked away from mister Hua to the American table, but the last of the soldiers was just leaving. Briefly, he thought about calling out to him and ask after Chloe, but decided against it. He doubted he could do anything for her. And he might make the wrong impression if he tenderly chucked up all over her, or quivered her stitches loose with his trembling while he dotingly held her hand.

The thing was, he was very, very bad at concerned hovering. Other people might sit down next to the bed of a loved one and tune out, or perhaps wallow in care and anxiety, but his brain wouldn't allow it. Neither did he want to play the worried lover while all the time he was thinking of how to dismember Fu Yang. And finally…all he really wanted to do was go back to bed and curl up beneath the blankets. He had slept wonderfully well—call that comatose, in fact—, but sleep had done little to diminish the exhaustion he still felt dragging at his limbs, and precisely nothing to cure the dull ache in his belly.

After breakfast, while Shanyuang and Crystal went to have a chat with the police, with McCarthy as a translator for General Lane, who insisted on being present as well, Lex did return to his room, but he did not yet go to bed. There were emails to reply to, and phone calls to be made. One was to Clark, to ask if he'd found Fu Yang, but Clark had either turned off his phone or had no reception for he was dumped onto his voicemail straightaway.

He had asked Crystal whether she'd found out anything about what had made the Temple People resort to violence, but the woman had shaken her head. No, she had said, she was still as clueless as before. But she was going to visit Feng Lao and his wife later this afternoon, and, if she reacted to her call, Miss Minh as well. She'd promised to keep him up to date.

That was neither here nor there at the moment, though, and Lex chewed on his fingers while he tried to make sense of the situation. And got nowhere. He started eating dry crackers while he booted up his laptop. Using a touch pad was impossible. He found a wireless mouse in his laptop bag. Unfortunately, typing was growing more and more difficult, too. He had to keep type with two fingers instead of ten if he wanted to produce anything else than gibberish. By the time he'd answered two mails he was feeling so frustrated he simply closed his laptop and paced for a while because he couldn't sit still.

A little after eleven, General Lane stomped into the room and proceeded to grill him on what had happened to him during his abduction. Lex was as honest as he cared to be, which meant he didn't dwell on being tortured, and focused mainly on Phoenix Fire.

"But," General Lane, who sadly wasn't as dumb a soldier as Lex had hoped said, "if the Temple People kidnapped the Sparkling Sources folks and put them in a holding cell, why'd you get tortured? What's the purpose?"

_My healing power. I'm the perfect guinea pig. _He shrugged. "Fu Yang, or whatever his real name is, was a psychopath. He got off on being in charge, on experimenting on people." _Which isn't like me. Not at all. I don't torture people. I perform miracles. Every miracle has a price. I do things for the greater good; I'm not a psychopath._ He rubbed his arms. "I imagine that it was more…fulfilling to him to have a westerner under his knife than one of his own people."

"Perhaps…" The General studied him intently.

Lex curled his fingers into his palms. He was clean, well-dressed, and he wore his expression of cool control as comfortably as his lambs wool sweater, but hiding the tremors, and _sitting still_, was harder. He met the General's eyes with a calm gaze of his own.

"He…this Fu Yang person…He injected you with this Phoenix Fire on a regular basis."

"Yes. About once every fifteen hours, if I've reconstructed time correctly."

"You seem to have recovered admirably from his other experiments, but…"

"Those were just superficial cuts," Lex interjected, afraid Lane would want to look at them again and then find out that they had all healed by now.

"But," Lane continued, "I'm wondering what a sudden abstinence of this drug will do to you. As far as I understand it, it is highly addictive. Withdrawal of heavy chemicals like this, often…"

"It isn't based on chemicals," Lex said, and clenched his teeth together to keep them from rattling. "It's herbal."

"It'll fuck up your system," the General said matter-of-factly. "If you'll excuse my French. And you're doing real well and all, but those tremors you've been trying to hide have only grown worse since this morning."

"I survived this night," Lex said curtly. "I didn't get a heart attack. That's what makes this drug dangerous: the side effects right after being high. My heart's fine, now," apart from a few slight irregularities and the odd palpitation once in a while, "so I'm sure I'll be fine. After all, the hospital sent the kid Chloe bumped into home after they'd concluded she was safe. If they did that with a small girl, I doubt they'd be able to do anything for me."

"Girl?" Lane asked. Lex filled him in. "I doubt that girl was dealing with an addiction as severe as yours."

"What makes you think I'm addicted?"

"The way you're kneading your arms," the General pointed at Lex's fingers, buried in the soft wool of his sleeves. Chagrined, Lex put his hands in his lap. One of his fingers snagged on the fabric. To his remote surprise he noticed he now had ragged edges instead of too long nails; he must have bitten them at one point.

"The way your pupils are dilated," Lane continued, "and the fact that you're sweating, shaking, and chewing your nails. Son, I may not be a doctor but I've walked the world and I've seen more people deep down in shit than you can imagine. The last thing I want to do is make a fuss, but I made a promise to your father, and I don't mean to fail because you refuse to tell me you're only a breath away from throwing a fit that'll stop your heart." He pursed his mouth, doubtlessly wishing he had a cigar stub to nibble.

Lex instigated a calculated silence and looked down on his ruined manicure. He never bit his nails. Only nervous people consumed themselves, and he was rarely nervous. Finding out that he had somehow broken his own rules angered him. Being called an addict angered him, even if it was true.

When he judged the silence long enough, he looked up. "Fine," he said. "I'm having withdrawal symptoms. Yes, I'm addicted." He shrugged. "I'll go through a couple of rough days and then I'll be fine."

"You can't be sure, and I don't want to…"

"I'll have to; I do not have any more Phoenix Fire in my possession," Lex interrupted him. "I've been through similar processes before, as I'm sure you are aware. I'll know when to ask for help, and I will, if necessary. You don't need to be afraid I'll die on you. My refusal to go to the hospital is truly based on my conviction that they will not be able to help me, not on suicidal stupidity."

More cigar stub-lacking mouth movements. Then the General nodded. "Fine." He put his own hands on the table. Large, square, brown hands with hairy backs and square, short, blunt, unbitten nails. Those hands made Lex feel unpleasantly dainty. "We are still in the dark about this Fu Yang character," he said after a short silence.

Lex sat up straight. "You haven't found Fu Yang?" His stomach flipped.

"That's what I'm saying. No one seems to know him as such. We can't trace him. I spoke to the police this morning. They've arrested twenty-six people, and two of those have incriminated the Mayor. Who isn't the real Mayor, it seems. Shanyuang was right after all. But there was no one present who resembled the description you and Chloe gave of Fu Yang."

"But I…" His throat went dry again. He picked up the glass of apple juice he'd just poured from the carafe and took a quick sip. "I marked him," he went on, and waited for another shiver to pass before he put his glass back on the table. "In his face. He'll be easy to find and recognize."

The General's eyebrows rose, furrowing his forehead. "You marked him? When? Last night? How? Kent didn't tell me anything about that!"

Lex shrugged. He wished he could stomach something stronger than juice. Something with an alcohol percentage over 80, for instance. All of a sudden he remembered what it had felt like to hook his fingers into the warm, wet, stretchy flesh of Fu Yang's slashed cheek, and while the memory made his mouth stretch, it made him feel more sick than he already was. His guts cramped painfully.

"How did you mark him?"

"I…" he cleared his throat. Then looked the General in the face and said, quite placidly, "I cut off some of his fingers. I can't remember which. And I carved two Ls into his face. Left side. Cut through his cheek, all the way through, I mean. And into his chest. Or maybe his stomach. I can't really remember."

"Holy bleeding hell." The General abruptly dug into his pocket and shoved a cigar between his teeth. "Is there anything else you 'can't really remember'? What did you do to him, put him on a table like he did to you?"

"It was more the spur of the moment, really."

Lane stared at him for a few long seconds. "Spur of the moment…" he murmured, then chewed down on his unlit cigar. "Right. It doesn't matter. The police may want to talk to you as well—although I got the impression they'd rather sweep everything under one of their fancy silk carpets and use the same broom to sweep us out of the country. However…" He fell silent as his pager beeped, took it out of his pocket and immediately rose to his feet. "I'm needed elsewhere. We'll get back to this later."

Lex nodded. "Fu Yang?" he asked.

"I'll give them the new description. Although I doubt he'll be up to anything if you did to him what you said you did."

Another nod.

"Right. You stay right here. I'll keep one of my men close by. You need anything, call me. You get sick and you get the feeling your current withdrawal isn't like the one from your old cocaine days, you call me and I'll get you to a hospital."

"Yes sir," Lex said. His phone rang—the American phone, not the one he'd had with him when Fu Yang kidnapped him. He picked it up. "Excuse me."

"That's alright, I have to go anyway." The General swept out of the door.

Lex checked the caller ID. It was Clark.

"Hey," Clark said. "You called."

"An hour ago."

"I was underground. Again."

"As in, at the temple?"

"Yes."

"Did you find anything?"

"I didn't find Fuji, if that's what you…"

"I already heard from the General. I am…disquieted, but not much surprised. It wouldn't make sense for him to stay where he'd surely be caught. Found anything else?"

"As a matter of fact…yes."

_Huge mountains of Phoenix Fire? Gleaming, tantalizing syringes filled with Phoenix Fire?_ He put another cracker into his mouth and just managed not to ask. "What?"

"I'll come by and show you," Clark said. "If you're up to it."

"I'm fine," Lex snapped. "Come and divert me."

*

Five minutes later, Clark Kent and laptop were seated respectively at and on the table.

"Pictures," Lex drawled, pouring more juice and trying not to spill it all over the table because his hands were shaking so badly. "How lovely, you're showing me pictures."

"They're rather interesting pictures," said Clark. "At least, they might be. I'm not sure, since I can't read whatever it says on the scrolls."

"Scrolls?" Lex asked.

Clark clicked through his album, then selected a number of files and opened them in Photo viewer. "There," he said. "You tell me. I found them deep down in the temple—and that's about all I found. I mean, no treasures, no Kali statues demanding blood sacrifices…"

"This is a Buddhist country, Clark." Lex peered at the first picture. "They wouldn't worship Kali…" He trailed off, frowning.

"Can you read it?"

"More or less…" He went to the second picture, which was more interesting than the first. His frown deepened. He zoomed in on the text, but magnifying it didn't make it any more readable to him.

"What's it say?"

"I'm not sure." He skipped to the third picture, which showed writing he couldn't make out at all, browsed the fourth, fifth and sixth scroll, and made a snorting sound of frustration.

"So?" Clark asked, sounded impatient.

"I can read the first page. It's a prayer. The rest is older, or written down in local characters. I can make out a few words in every sentence, but not…" He drummed his fingers on the table. When he stopped drumming they still quivered, but he ignored that for the moment. The beckoning mystery temporarily drowned out his physical complaints. "Would you mind if I called Brian over to have a look at it?"

Clark shrugged. "Sure. If you think he can make heads or tails of it. I'd have gone to him if you hadn't been able to read it anyway."

"How loyal of you," Lex sneered.

"I did go to see you first, didn't I?" Clark shot back.

"True." He dialed Brian's number, hoping the man hadn't taken an Asian phone in use, but no, he picked up after a few rings. Lex asked Brian if he were busy at the moment. McCarthy said he had just finished transcribing and translating the statement of one of the Temple People.

"Come over," said Lex. "To my room. Clark's found something at the temple that might interest you."

A quarter of an hour later, McCarthy had taken Lex's place behind Clark's laptop. Lex steepled his fingers and rested his chin on top of them to hide the tremors while McCarthy studied the pictures.

"Do you have the originals as well?" he asked.

Clark shook his head. "Aren't the pictures clear enough?"

"Oh yes, but I've never actually held something as old as this. I'd have liked to feel it in my hand. And I'd like to know what this shimmer is, over here."

"That," said Clark, "is the plastic layer surrounding it."

Brian blinked. "I beg your pardon," he said. "Did you just say it's plasticized?"

"Yes."

"Oh." A lopsided grin drew a groove into the man's cheek, making him look surprisingly impish for a second. "I see. That's...unexpected. Not entirely devoid of logic, but still. Unexpected. I'll make do with the scans for now." The grin disappeared, leaving him with that distinct diplomat's face again. He adjusted the laptop and the angle of the screen, and intently studied the text. The light of the screen reflected in his glasses.

"Can you make it out?" Lex asked.

McCarthy nodded, slowly. "It's not as old as I thought. Five, six hundred years, not older. Some of it is even less old. Let's see. This here," he tapped the screen with his finger, "is a prayer."

"The common Buddhist prayer," Lex agreed. He read aloud:

"By the power and the truth of this practice,

may all beings have happiness, and the causes of happiness.

May all be free from sorrow, and the causes of sorrow.

May all never be separated from the sacred happiness

which is sorrowless.

And may all live in equanimity,

without too much attachment and too much aversion,

And live believing in the equality of all that lives.

I can't read all of it, but I get the gist of it. If I may?" He skipped to the second page. "Now look at this."

McCarthy pushed his glasses higher up his nose, and haltingly began to read.

"I salute that Buddha who burns the sorrow of poverty,

Who has five faces,

Who wears king of serpents as ornament,

Who wears cloth made of gold,

Who is the ornament for the three worlds,

Who is the giver of boons,

Who is the storehouse of happiness,

And who is personification of darkness." He frowned. "That's odd."

"What's odd?" Clark asked. It probably sounded like a genuine prayer to him.

"Buddha does not have five faces," Lex said.

"Nor does he wear serpents," McCarthy added. "Nor gives boons." He reached into his breast pocket and took out the cigarette holder. He opened it, then offered it to Lex.

Lex started to shake his head, then reconsidered and accepted one. Maybe a bit of nicotine would help stop the shivers.

"I think this is a non-smoking room," Clark commented.

Lex shrugged. McCarthy lit his cigarette and he drew in that first disgusting lungful of smoke and repressed his cough reflex. "If they complain, I'll buy the hotel and make this a smoking room." Even though he hadn't smoked in years the habit was easily re-instituted. The tobacco smelled sweet and bit into his throat, but after a few draws it seemed to him his fingers did tremble less. He raised the slim white stick to Brian. "Do you still have them made for you in Cuba?"

McCarthy blew out a perfect smoke ring. "No," he said, bending over the keyboard again. "I'm having them made in Virginia now. A friend of a friend of a friend...Well, it's cheaper and the quality is better." He inhaled, and regarded his artful cig with a fond smile. "The least I can do is cultivate my common vice and turn it into something snobbish."

"Perhaps you should try one of those ivory pipes," Lex suggested.

"That's not snobbish, that's pretentious. And feminine. My aim is to be refined, not womanish."

"Uh," Clark said, and McCarthy presented him with a smile that Lex recognized as the kind of mocking, sardonic smirk all of Lionel's personal favorites sported after a few years of regular contact with said man.

"My apologies," he said. "Your scrolls. Well, what's odd about this one is that this is a prayer to Shiva, not Buddha, but they have put Buddha's name in it."

"Buddha and Shiva," Lex mused. He carefully rolled the smoldering tip of the cigarette along the edge of the ash tray, meaning to scrape off the ashes, and frowned as a sudden spasm almost made him extinguish the entire stub. He grimaced as his stomach echoed the spasm. "Buddha addressed as Shiva. I remember from the temple…What about the other scrolls?"

Brian squinted at the third picture, zooming in and tracing characters on screen with his finger. "Huh," he said.

"What?" both Clark and Lex asked simultaneously.

"Paint me red and call me a tulip. This part…It's a recipe."

"A WHAT???"

"A recipe. With flowers. It mentions flowers."

Lex hit himself in the face, producing a slap that was hard enough it made both Clark and Brian gaze at him with apprehensive expressions. "Flowers," Lex said, rubbing his stinging forehead. "Does it say what kind of flowers?"

Clark looked illuminated. "Purple ones?" he asked.

"Mmm. This character could mean purple. I think this is the character for blue, or sky, and this for fire, red, but I'm not sure, I can't honestly say it's…"

"It's the formula for Phoenix Fire," Lex breathed. "I'm sure it is."

"You really think so?" McCarthy asked.

"It has to be. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Really? Because if I'm reading this bit of the scroll correctly," he tapped on the upper part of the picture, making the screen bloom in different colors, "what it should instigate don't exactly describe the symptoms you were displaying."

"I didn't display any symptoms," Lex protested.

McCarthy smirked again. "Exactly," he said. "At least, not any overtly clear ones. What is promised here," again he put his finger on the screen, "is: 'Shiva's rage in an enlightened body, illusions of power that become reality', here something I can't read, 'violence, strength, the voice of the Gods ringing in one's ears like a battle drum.' Or bell. 'Shiva's fire will consume his heart and send him straight to Nirvana'." He blindly took his silver cigarette holder out of his pocket and shook out a cigarette. "As far as I can summarize," he said, lighting his smoke with a Zippo, "the opiate described below will bring hallucinations, berserker rage, and finally death to the one who takes it. Charming."

"But for what reason?" Clark asked.

"Guardians," Lex murmured. His heart was pounding—he didn't know whether it was with excitement or withdrawal. Not only his hands were shaking, now, his entire body was thrumming. "Warrior monks. That's the treasure of the temple, the means to turn peaceful monks, or maybe warrior monks, into fighting machines. Fu Yang must have found this formula and decided that it would make…" He got up, unable to keep still, and started pacing to and fro in front of the window.

"Is it complete?" he asked. "This formula, is it complete?"

"Lex, I can hardly read it. I…"

"No," Clark said. He was staring at Lex with a slight frown denting the skin between his eyebrows. "Two are damaged. I'm not sure if those two held part of the recipe, but it would make sense."

"Otherwise he wouldn't have had to experiment so much," Lex agreed. He gnawed on the nail of his thumb, thinking. "I wonder how far he's gotten, really. How closely his product approaches the original substance."

"The substance someone made sure could never be reproduced by removing most of the instructions?" Clark asked. "Someone who knew the way into the temple and probably also was aware of what his flowery substance did to people who took it? Why would you want to know, Lex?"

"Because I c-can't stand unsolved mysteries," Lex retorted. The constant shivering was annoying. He put his hands under his armpits, clenched his arms close to his body. Excitement was coursing through his veins like a fever. Illegal substances were bad, he knew that. But finding out about some ancient, berserker-rage inspiring floral drug…THAT was interesting. That was FASCINATING. He could ENTIRELY understand why someone would want to put everything else aside to reproduce such a thing. "He got the side effects right, in any case."

"Sorry," Clark said. He closed the laptop and drew it away from McCarthy. "I think we've seen enough."

"On the contrary," Lex said. He tugged at the neck of his sweater. It felt tight all of a sudden. "We want to know more."

"Uh, Lex?" McCarthy said through a haze of smoke. "Are you alright?"

"What? Yes, of course I'm alright. Never b-better." Well, maybe not, but damn it, he'd finally found something to take his mind off his rapidly worsening condition and now Clark was taking it away again. "Clark," he said. "You've been to the temple. Was there a lab down there, somewhere? There must have been. Knowing Fu Yang, he would've had a place to experiment, to…to study."

"No," said Clark.

"Are you sure? That doesn't make sense." He paced to the window, brusquely turned around and changed directions. "There should be a lab, he must've had a place where he studied my blood, and what the…the Fire did to it. You sure you didn't see a lab? Maybe you missed it."

"No, Lex. I didn't miss it."

"Perhaps you sit down," Brian added, getting up from his own chair.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lex snapped. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, clenched his shaking hands to fists and crossed them over his chest. "Clark, show me those pictures again. Can we print them out somewhere? Brian, I'd like you to transcribe as much as you can. Write it down, or type it, that would be even better. And we have to search for that lab. I'm convinced there's a lab. There must be." He walked to the closet and took out his coat. Pain be damned, he needed to find that lab. Somehow, it was very important that he find the place where the Phoenix Fire had been made.

If only he could make his fingers push his buttons through the holes…

He started violently as two hands landed on his shoulders. "What?!"

Clark. Close. Right behind, and then in front of him as he was turned as easily as a child. Lex gasped as his lungs refused to draw in enough air. Fear he couldn't even identify burned in his guts like a ball of fire.

"Lex, what on earth are you doing? You can't go out."

He took a step backwards. "Why not? I won't let him catch me…I'll bring a gun. Do I have a gun? Or a knife, I can find a knife somewhere…Cut him up once, I can do it again. And I need…"

"Lex, what you need is to calm down and sit down in this chair," McCarthy said.

Clark nodded solemnly. They didn't understand a bit of it.

"I need to find that laboratory," Lex whispered. He winced as his shoulders hit the door; he hadn't been aware he'd been backing up.

"Why?" asked Clark. He hadn't moved from where he was standing, but Lex flattened his back against the door anyway. "What is it you want to find there? What is it you THINK you'll find there?"

"My blood. The latest results." He licked his lips. They tasted salt. He wiped his upper lip and found himself dripping with sweat. _Phoenix Fire. No_. "He's taken about a pint of blood. I w-want that back. I don't want anyone else to have my blood."

"I'll go look for it," Clark said. He reached out his hand but drew it back quickly as Lex raised both shaking hands in defense. "Christ Lex, what's wrong? I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Maybe we should just go," McCarthy said, his slow, British-accented voice piercing Lex's growing terror and grounding him. "Lex clearly needs his rest, and I have a lot to do as well."

"You'll t-translate those scrolls for me?" Lex asked anxiously.

"If Mister Kent here will give me printouts of his pictures…I'll see what I can do."

"Ap-p-preciate it," Lex stammered. He wrapped his arms around his chest.

They all stood at a standstill for a moment, until he realized he was blocking the way, and stepped away from the door.

"You go and get some sleep, will you?" McCarthy said. "I'll try to have the scrolls translated by tomorrow, but I can't promise anything. Medieval Chinese isn't really my forte."

Lex nodded. He was quaking so badly by now he was afraid he'd bite off his own tongue if he spoke.

"Get well soon," McCarthy said, with touching sincerity, and then was gone.

Clark hesitated. "Why…" he said, and shoved his laptop more securely under his arm.

"Why w-what?"

"Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm not," said Lex. "I'm not," he repeated, as Clark raised his eyebrows.

"No? Then why do you flinch when I…" He reached out his hand towards Lex's chest again, and Lex slashed at it as if he were still holding a scalpel and Clark could actually be hurt by one. He wasn't even aware he'd reacted that way until he felt the sharp pain of hitting something that simply didn't give with his hand.

Lex moaned. "I don't know," he whispered. He rubbed his stinging hand. "I d-don't know."

"I thought we were…ok," Clark said. "I mean, I…I thought you were, you know…?"

"I am! I…Jesus." He closed his eyes. "I am. We are ok. I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe Brian was right; maybe I d-do need to sleep for a while."

"Are you alright?"

"No, Clark, I am not alright. I'd thought that abundantly clear." He looked up and saw hurt, and self-doubt, and worry, and forced himself to smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout. Just…leave me be for a while, alright? I'm very tired, and I don't feel very w-well."

"I can see that. Are you sure you don't need help?"

"Yes," Lex said firmly. "If you want to help me, f-find that lab. I'm sure it's there. Find my b-blood. And whatever that's left of the…of the Fire."

Clark nodded, eyes guarded. "Ok," he said. "You won't leave here? Try to find it on your own?"

Lex laughed humorlessly, gestured at himself with his quivering hands. "I don't think I'd get very f-far, do you? No, I'll stay here. Rest up a bit. I'll call you when I'm ready to…to…When I'm ready."

"Sure." Clark kept his hands to himself this time. Good. Lex took another step backward to give him more space as he walked through the door. "Do call me," he said, before drawing the door closed behind him. "If you need me, alright?'

'Absolutely," Lex said. He wished he knew why he both felt like sighing with relief and howling for Clark to come back when the younger man was gone.

TBC


	19. Chapter 18

Eighteen: Clark Finds Out. Lex Kicks the Habit

McCarthy was leaning against the wall next to the door of his room when Clark entered the hallway. Clark meant to just nod at him and pass him by, but the older man straightened up from his slouch and said, "I picked up my memory stick. Do you mind if I swipe those pictures from your hard drive right now?"

"No, that's fine." Clark opened his laptop and balanced it on one palm while he typed in his password to make it wake up from standby. McCarthy uncapped a small gray USB stick and slid it into one of the ports. Clark quickly selected the pictures of the scrolls, making sure he did not accidentally copy any pictures of the lab.

"There. Done."

"Thank you. I'll work on them tonight." He dropped the stick back into his pocket, but did not turn away. When Clark walked to his room, unlocked the door and placed the laptop on his nightstand he followed, and waited outside his room until Clark walked out again.

"Anything else I can do for you?" Clark asked. He locked the door.

"Why did you lie to him?"

"I didn't." His automatic response. 'I didn't do it' 'It wasn't me', 'I didn't lie; I'm telling the truth'.

McCarthy was having none of it. "You did. When he asked you about the lab. About his blood. You said you hadn't found anything, but you were lying, and I'm wondering why."

Clark shrugged. "Sorry, but you're wrong. If there's a lab down there, I haven't found it yet. I'll go look for it as soon as General Lane gives me the Go-sign, but…"

"You never waited for his permission," McCarthy interrupted him. He tagged along as Clark made his way to the elevator. "You don't give a damn about Lane's authority. You've gone down before, and you can't tell me you found these scrolls while you and Lex were freeing his girlfriend."

Again: his _girlfriend_. Chloe, Lex's girlfriend.

Clark shook himself. "You're right," he said. "I did go down again last evening. But I didn't find any lab. Sorry." He pressed the elevator button.

McCarthy rocked back and forth on his heels and the ball of his foot. He shot Clark a sideways glance. "He is a friend of yours, isn't he? Lex. You know him."

_Biblically, yes. Otherwise… "_Sometimes," he said evasively. "At the moment…not so much."

The other man chuckled. "Oh, I don't claim anyone actually gets to know the Luthors. Either of them. And Lex is a lot more complex than his old man."

Clark nodded. Didn't he know it. Lionel was a combination of lion and snake: a calculating predator, charming and lethal. What did that make Lex? A platypus? He wished the elevator would arrive. Why were all these mechanisms so horribly slow?

McCarthy chatted on, still bobbing up and down as he waited. "I've worked with and for Lionel Luthor for almost fifteen years," he announced conversationally. "He attended the same evening course for International Law I did, when I was studying Law in Boston."

"Really? How interesting," Clark said—rude, he was aware of it, but what the hell did the man want from him? And…International Law? He'd thought McCarthy was a translator. Then again, he did remember an impressive list of thus far disregarded titles on his business card.

McCarthy did not seem insulted. He dropped down on his heels, adjusted his glasses and said, "To explain to you that I know the Luthors. I've known Lionel for the better part of my adult life, and Lex since he was a teenager. I know the boy, well, no longer a boy now, of course—I know he's brilliant. And I know that that genius comes with a price. I know of his…episodes."

"Episodes?" Clark couldn't help asking. As far as he knew, Lex had only had one 'episode' (apart from episodes of unfathomable wickedness, and he didn't think the tendency towards immorality was a medical condition), and that was when his father was poisoning him. He wondered if dear old Brian was aware of that charming fact. And that it had been Lionel himself to administer shock therapy when chemical-induced madness didn't prove to be enough to render Lex harmless. He sincerely doubted McCarthy knew Lionel THAT well.

McCarthy's mouth broadened briefly, then he said smoothly, "Well, whatever you want to call them."

Clark turned away from the elevator. He'd spent enough time around Lex to know when he was being played, and McCarthy was as obvious as if it were a circus act. "No," he said firmly. "You can't probe me for what I know about Lex and the Luthors and expect me not to notice it. What do you mean with 'episodes'? Lex doesn't have episodes—at least not anything that's come up from his own brain!"

McCarthy raised his hands in submission. The elevator doors opened. He gestured at the cubicle. "Your ride."

Clark hesitated, torn between wanting to leave and run to the temple lab to destroy any notes on the Phoenix Fire, and simple curiosity. When the doors started to close, he sighed and turned towards the interpreter. "Episodes."

"Yes."

"What kind of episodes?"

"Several kinds. Sleepwalking spells. Manias. Something approaching schizophrenia. But I mainly refer to his obsessions."

Clark raised an expectant eyebrow. He knew all about Lex's obsessions; he was one of the on-going ones. Lana had told him she'd once found Lex standing on the crenels of his Mansion howling his baby brother's name. He'd had no idea he'd climbed up there until he woke up. That classified as sleepwalking, Clark thought. He didn't know about the schizophrenia, but he was willing to bet reality wasn't half as scary as the name of the affliction. He was kind of familiar with having two faces. So far he was not impressed.

"Let me illustrate," McCarthy said, sensing his reservation. "One evening I visited Lionel in Metropolis. Lex was there as well—I believe that was the first time I met him. He was about fifteen, sixteen years old. Skinny, sallow-looking boy, rebellion written all over his face…

'However, we were not introduced at my arrival; I'd come on business, and so Lionel and I conducted business. While we were discussing my translation—I had translated some documents for him—, I heard someone play the piano in the room next to Lionel's study. Recreational, it was. Little more than finger practices; some early Mozart, a few simple pop songs. I paid it little attention at the time.

'Yet later that evening we paused to have a drink, and I noticed that the person in the other room was still playing, had been playing for all this time, and that the difficulty of the piece had improved…drastically. I don't mean Fur Elise. I mean something Jazzy, something difficult. Davis' '_Milestones'_, I think it was.

'I commented on the music, and Lionel said "Yes, I believe he's finally got the hang of it. Thank god, maybe we'll have some peace and quiet now." And he explained to me that Lex had decided that morning that he wished to know how to play a particular song he'd liked. He did not know how to play a note, and so he had dug up all his mother's music sheets in the attic and _had learned to play the piano_."

McCarthy paused. He selected a cigarette from his silver case, lit it and repeated, "He learned to play the piano in one day. In the morning, he learned the notes by heart so he could play them blind. Then he tried to play one of the simpler songs. Found that he couldn't, because he did need to learn. He spent one hour buying _Playing the Piano for Dummies_, or whatever learner's books they have out there, and for the rest of the day he _learned to play the piano_. As Lionel put it, he did not take his eyes off the piano until he could play the song he wanted to play by hearing alone, since he didn't have the leaf music for it, and make variations. Didn't eat, didn't drink. I'd say he didn't sleep, but he learned it in ONE DAY, so…"

"It's fascinating," Clark said. "Really, it is. But why are you telling me all this? I know he can play the piano." He hadn't known he'd learned it in one day, and on his own. He'd always got the impression Lex had started studying at one point, terrorized his teacher and then lost interest. Apparently he had—only he'd learned it quicker than Clark had thought and hadn't needed a teacher. So what?

"Because it is a splendid example of how Lex's brain works," McCarthy said. "If he wants something, he'll keep on trying to get it, or reach it, or master it, until he knows how it works, and then he forgets about it. What I mean to say, is," he blew out a cloud of smoke, "if you do know anything about that lab, maybe it would be better to give him what he wants, if only to ease his mind. Especially because of his current…condition."

"I see." What Clark could mainly see was that McCarthy must know Lex not half as well as he claimed he did, if he thought letting Lex pour over test results for ancient drugs would 'ease his mind'. ESPECIALLY in his current condition. Knowing Lex, he'd fall head-first into some weird-ass craving to perfect the drug, and if Clark knew anything about addiction, he'd experiment on himself first.

Hell, he'd only recently stopped hating the guy; the last thing he wanted to either turn him into a monster again, or let him kill himself.

No. Unless total withdrawal would put his health in mortal danger, Lex should stay well away from anything related to Phoenix Fire. He might be disappointed, and sick, and he'd be furious with Clark if he ever found out, but that was better than see him turn into some creepy scientist. Because he would, if his fascination ran deep enough.

If McCarthy knew anything about Lex, he'd have known that. Hell, any person vaguely aware of the younger Luthor's background would know. So why even suggest indulging him? Misguided pity? Or something else? Some nasty, Lionel-inspired scheme? Or did Brian McCarthy LLM, MA, etc (Clark couldn't remember how many titles he actually had; more than three in any case) have his own agenda as well?

I don't care. I'm going to get Lex's blood, those scrolls, any remaining notes, and make sure no one is every going to tamper with those flowers again. That lab, and that equipment should be enough to get those men convicted. Maybe I should leave one dose. Just so the police can test it and identify it. Lex may be good, but he won't be able to get his hands on evidence locked up in a police safe.

He produced his most naïve smile. "Maybe you're right."

"There is a lab?"

"Maybe. I don't know. But I'll find out." He jabbed the elevator button again, and quickly moved inside when it opened immediately. McCarthy remained where he was, cigarette between his lips, thumbs hooked into his pockets. He was nodding earnestly.

"Good. Please let me know when you do. You have my card, right? Call me when you find anything."

"I will," Clark said, putting more sincerity into his dumb smile. He went down with a frown. Damn it. He'd liked McCarthy, and now he didn't trust him anymore. Was there ANY person at all Luthor-resistant? Or did they truly corrupt EVERYONE in their service?

*

He'd already gathered all the notes on the table the last time he'd been down here, but now Clark also took a large plastic folder from a drawer in the table. It contained two maps of some sort, and printed texts—in Chinese, again. Of course. He had no idea what it was about, but maybe he could ask someone he trusted to translate some of it, so he knew whether it was harmless or dangerous to Lex.

What would I do if I had a basement full of hard evidence against me that would land me in prison for a substantial amount of years, and little time to make it disappear? I'd take the things that are most incriminating. Like the blood of the man I experimented on, and the notes. Would I take the scrolls? No, I wouldn't bother. But someone else might. Their disappearance wouldn't be hard to explain. Or maybe just the dangerous scrolls. Uhhh, which contained the formula again?

Rubbing his gloved hands because it wouldn't do to leave finger prints, he studied the gleaming scrolls. He recognized one as the text that was a prayer to Buddha. He'd taken his pictures clockwise. The third scroll was the first containing the formula, so he took that one away, and the damaged fourth one as well. Even if the fifth also mentioned the drug, no one would be able to make heads nor tails of it.

_Only have to erase the pictures from my laptop and McCarthy's memory stick, _he reminded himself—but if he did that, Lex would probably suspect him and become even more fanatic about finding out.

Christ, it was difficult maintaining a friendship with the man.

Clark rolled up the parchments and put them into a plastic waste bag. "Sorry," he told the small round room. There was something sacrilegious about removing these scrolls and stuffing them into a bag like that.

He went back to the lab, tossed in the bags of blood, all of the Phoenix Fire doses but one, which he carefully positioned on the floor below the table, and the file into the waste bag with the scrolls, and raced to the other side of the mountain range, roughly 700 miles away. There, he found a barren hollow in the rock, far away from any snow or stream that could take the Phoenix Fire with it and contaminate the water, and dropped the vials there. The bags of blood he vaporized with his heat vision—all but one, just in case. He didn't want to destroy the scrolls yet, either, so he wrapped them up in the bag and pushed them after the vials. When this was all finished he could burn everything to a crisp; for now, it was enough that no one would be able to find them.

The folder he saved. He needed to know what had been included. So far everyone still was in the dark why and how things had come to pass; maybe there was a clue inside.

_If these notes contain speculations on the Phoenix Fire formula, that means that they've been typed down and are on a computer somewhere._ But how was he ever going to find that computer? Ah well. First things first.

He went back to the lab to have a final look and reassured himself that all that was left was a pretty dead giveaway that Phoenix Fire had been created here, but that there was nothing with which the process could be reconstructed.

Clark checked his watch. One o' clock. Chloe wouldn't have come out of surgery yet. Soon, but not yet. He still had some time.

*

It took him a while, but just as Clark concluded that Crystal Shanyuang was not at the hotel, she strolled into the lobby, and he tackled her there. "Can you help me? I need something translated, real quick I mean, just to know what it is."

Crystal glanced at her slim golden wrist watch. "Um, sure. I have a couple of minutes. Mister Kent, isn't it?"

"Um, yeah. Clark. Clark's fine."

"You're a friend of Chloe's? Do you know how she is? I wanted to go and visit her at the hospital but I simply can't find the time today…"

"We're childhood friends," Clark said. He gazed around. The lobby was deserted. "She was hurt pretty badly, but the doctors said she'd be alright. She's being operated this morning; I'll go and see her in a bit." He lead Crystal to a couch at the far end of the lobby, close to the window.

"Please wish her well from me," Crystal said. "Until I can come and see her myself. I hope this evening, but maybe tomorrow…"

"I will," Clark promised. He opened the folder, held it over her lap. Crystal looked at the first page and smiled.

"Well," she said, "this is a map, obviously…"

"Yeah," Clark said. "But of what? I can't read it."

"Oh!" She traced her finger along the incomprehensible characters jotted down in the upper left corner. "Of course. Sorry. It's of one of the valleys, in the mountains. Shiong. See, these are the height lines. It's one of the…"

"I know it's a mountain map, I just wanted to know of where in the mountains," Clark smiled to take the impatience out of his words. He pointed at the small hand-written phrases here and there in the map. "What's this say?"

Crystal rubbed her nose. "Huh. It says 'good' and 'not good'. Well, 'suitable' and 'unsuitable' really. And this one is a 'maybe'."

_Flowers_, Clark thought. _Flowers suitable for the creation of Phoenix Fire_. He went to the next page. "This," he began, but Crystal exclaimed,

"That's our factory! This is a copy of our pipe line location sketches!" She squinted closer at the paper. "What am I saying? This IS one of our own maps. It's an original. It even has the watermark in the corner. How'd they possibly get…?" She trailed off, stared hard at the map, then paged back to the previous map.

"They overlap, partly," Clark said quietly. He indicated one of the few spots that, according to Crystal, was noted 'suitable'. "Your pipe line would run right through, or beneath, the largest area he's designated 'suitable'. I think you there have your reason why the Temple People didn't want your factory."

Crystal stared at him with wide eyes. Then she gave a sharp nod, and went to the next page. It was a whole document, typed out and scribbled upon by hand.

"What's this?"

"It's a…" she turned one page, then another. "It's a growth chart. And soil identification. And…A description of how to…to…how do you say that? To breed flowers. Acid levels, fertilization, water distribution…everything!" She looked up from the pages, her eyes glittering. "This is about the flowers they've been using to make _Fèng__huáng__huǒ_, right? It's a flower growth chart. And this," he browsed through the pages, "this tells how to make the drug. Yes. This is preparation. And result graphs. Where did you get this?"

"At the temple."

"You went back into temple?"

"Yes." He considered. "Listen. Crystal. This drug, it's old." He told her what he, Lex and McCarthy had found out.

"And is it true Fu Yang experimented on poor Rex with this drug?"

Clark blinked. He wouldn't have thought Lex prepared to tell everyone what he'd gone through.

"I…heard things," Crystal said, looking vaguely guilty. "Did he?" Clark nodded. "Is he alright? Rex, I mean. He seemed very pale at breakfast."

"I hope he'll be fine in a few days," Clark said evasively. He truly had no idea how bad it was going to be. "But…Look, I don't know how well you know Lex, but…It's very important that there is no way, and I mean no way at all, anybody, most of all Lex will ever be able to reproduce Phoenix Fire again."

"Why would Rex want to produce Phoenix Fire?"

_Because he's a neurotic idiot_. "He can't resist challenges. He'd want to see if it were possible to get it right, and that would be…bad." _Think 'bad' as in rows and rows of test subjects, hidden labs of horror, and your 'poor Rex' disregarding his own humanity for the sake of science_. He didn't say the last bit, but something in either his face or his voice must have made an impression.

"Yes." She stroked a fold out of a page. "Yes, I see how that would be…bad."

"I want these people to be convicted for the crimes they committed. But I don't want all this to start up again in a few years because someone has the chance to continue from where Fuji and his temple people left off."

"You want to remove the notes on the _Fèng__huáng__huǒ_." Crystal, Clark thought with relief, was neither stupid nor outraged at the idea.

"Yes," he said calmly. "Any hard copies anyway. This was printed, so it was saved on a hard disk somewhere, but I have no means to find out where. I doubt we, the American party anyway, will ever find out even if it is, one day, discovered. But yes, I want to get rid of anything about the creation of Phoenix Fire. There is enough evidence to put them behind bars for a few years even if we remove this part, and I think it is very important that no one can every be tempted again to try and find out if they can create it again."

Crystal nodded. "Not just Rex."

"Not just Lex," Clark agreed.

She looked at her watch again. "I have to go," she said. "I'm going to have a word with Feng Lao and his wife. See if I can find out more about what was going on. I should be back…oh…no…Um, would you mind if I came over after dinner to translate the rest of that? Or is your own translator going to do that?"

"No," said Clark. "I'd appreciate it if you'd do it."

She smiled. "You don't trust him either?"

"Either?"

"Rex does not trust him. Neither do I. He's…too bland, if you know what I mean. But now, I leave. I will see you after dinner, ok?"

"Ok. Thanks."

Crystal left. Clark fingered the file, then put it in a bag and hid it in the mountains. Lunch first. And then he should be off to give Chloe some much-needed attention.

*

After Clark had gone, Lex paced around the room, unable to get the idea of the lab out of his mind. He wasn't sure what was so tantalizing about the lab: the Phoenix Fire he was still certain was stocked there; the notes on how they, or Fu Yang, had started his research and come to his current results; the equipment he had used to brew his concoctions.

Primitive. Bunsen burners; he remembered that. Nothing like the kind of laboratory Lex would be able to provide.

I'd need to test it.

His overwrought imagination instantly provided him with a picture of a room with four Lex's lying on gurneys staring at the ceiling and he stopped dead in the middle of the room as a sickening stab of pain made him bend double.

No. No, god no, that would be a very bad idea. The thought of tying someone to a prime quality, hospital-approved bed alone made him sick. The thought of handling a needle made him feel sick, even as he desperately wished he still had a few doses left.

But no. Cold turkey was the best way. He'd done it before, with coke, and that had been unpleasant but little more than that. He'd be fine.

Damn it, Luthors were above addictions.

But if there was a lab…

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he groaned, and rubbed his slick forehead with his jittery fingers. All of a sudden he felt absolutely knackered. Not much of a surprise, since he'd probably covered about 8 miles wandering about the room. His muscles certainly ached as if he had. Well, it wasn't as if that would get better over the next few hours. Lex sighed, ate another cracker, drank some water, undressed and crawled into bed, determined to sleep for as long as he could before his body started the revolt he felt brewing below the surface.

He actually did sleep for a few hours before the pain in his stomach woke him up. It was worse, now, much worse than before, and impossible to ignore anymore. With wakefulness, the shivers started up again, and he curled up into a tight ball below the covers.

Luthors do not let a bit of discomfort interrupt their sleep.

It was a good credo, but unfortunately it didn't really work that way. His body heat had created a lovely pocket of warmth beneath the duvet, but while he'd been sleeping he'd started sweating again, and it was like lying in a swamp. Now, as long as he was warm, that didn't matter all that much, but the bad thing about sleeping simply not to be awake was, that his restless mind had unlimited freedom to come up with the strangest dreams and hallucinations—including one about being stranded on a humid, hot island. Another one included a basement, and yet another five men with cut faces, who all claimed they weren't Fu Yang. After a while the sticky sheets weren't enough to keep the chills at bay, and even the thought of giving up this warmth was not enough to keep him in his clammy bed. In a flash of foresight he called room service and ordered two huge carafes of orange juice, and told them to have his bedding changed as well.

Lex moved to the bathroom, hunched over his aching belly and clenching his jaws together to save the enamel on his molars, and shivered convulsively behind the locked door until there was enough water in the tub so he could get in without touching icy porcelain. Chloe would have been proud of him; he turned as red as a lobster within two seconds of immersion, and every smooth surface in the room misted over with condense.

For over an hour, the water enabled him to float in a state of relative comfort. As long as he ran it really hot, it kept his muscles more or less relaxed, and soothed his unruly stomach. He could hear a room maid flutter about the room for a few minutes. She knocked on the bathroom door to ask him if he needed clean towels too, but he told her he didn't, and she left.

Good. The setting was prepared. No matter what state he was in, he was still a master planner.

He remained in his bath until his guts told him in no uncertain terms that unless he wanted to end up like some kind of Limpopo hippo in shitty water, he'd better get his ass out of the tub, get dried off and prepare for the worst. So he did. At least he was now so hot steam wafted from his body and his muscles were as smooth as half-molten butter. He dried carefully, put on a T-shirt and fresh underwear and positioned himself on a pillow against the bath.

His timing was impeccable, as usual. He hadn't sat down yet before his mid-section cramped to a hard coil that couldn't accept anything inside that hadn't grown there since he was born.

_Well_, he thought, in between retching heaves as he hung over the toilet seat, deciding that in that split second of doubt whether he should sit down or lean over he had made the correct decision, _no one can say you don't handle going cold turkey with a maximum of finesse, preparation and grace. Really, Dad'd be proud of you._

*

Listening to people being sick, Clark figured, clapping his hands over his ears, was about as bad as spying on people making out, with his telescope. It was also gross; the sound of someone vomiting up everything up to his socks and shoes wasn't exactly stimulating. Somehow, however, he found himself straining his ears to find out how Lex was doing, what he was doing, and whether his heart was still working, and by trying to listen to his heart, he'd hear the rest as well.

It really wasn't fair that he felt so responsible for the one person who'd renounced his offers of protection so completely, but there he was. And when he woke up close to dawn and heard Lex throw up for what he counted as the eleventh time, he almost got up to carry him off to the hospital, willing or not.

Clark had thrown up exactly three times in his life. Twice when he'd been rendered human (alcohol), and once because of Kryptonite. He'd loathed it. It was awful. It was graceless and gross and demeaning and even painful after some time. He couldn't imagine it just going on and on. It couldn't be good for the heart either, that kind of strain. But like every other time he'd checked, Lex's heart seemed to be doing ok, and he unfocused his hearing to give the poor bastard some privacy.

He rolled over, wondering why he was awake at all. Yesterday…and today as well, had been strenuous enough to warrant a full 10 hours sleep, and now he was awake after only six.

Chloe would be alright. As it turned out, Lois, Clark and Sam Lane were told after a two-hour lasting operation, she'd been lucky. The only truly grave injury was the wound in her thigh because it had torn her muscle, but the doctor who spoke to them, a small, squat woman with a nasal voice and a mole under one eye, said that they had good hopes that she'd recover completely.

It would take time, though.

And she shouldn't be transported until she was conscious, and stronger. Preferably later. In a few days. Chloe had lost a lot of blood, the doctor said, pronouncing her name as Miss Surrivan all the time, and the shock had severely weakened her. If no complications occurred in the next 48 hours, General Lane was welcome to put her on the plane and take her back home, but she urged caution, and suggested waiting at least four days before taking her out of the hospital.

The General had muttered something about authorities and investigation, and told Doctor Chen that he would wait for four days.

After that, they'd all had been given permission to take a peek at Chloe from behind glass. She looked horrible, much worse than before the operation; her face pale and still, IVs leading into both arms, tubes disappearing under and reappearing from beneath the blankets. Her injured leg had been bandaged from foot to groin again, and hung suspended from leads from the ceiling. An oxygen mask covered the lower half of her face—to keep her asleep, Doctor Chen said. She wanted Chloe to remain unconscious for another ten hours to give her time to recover. She also said that she believed Miss Surrivan would improve quite quickly once she woke up.

"I'll stay with her," Lois said in her I'm-as-good-as-any-private voice. That voice brooked no argument. "When she wakes up, she'll need to see a familiar face."

Selfishly, Clark was glad he wasn't expected to do any lengthy bed-hovering. He had remained with Lois for most of the afternoon, playing scrabble, chess and battleship with her. When he returned to the hotel he listened for any signs of life coming from Lex's room, and determined him asleep. That was good, he guessed.

After dinner Crystal Shanyuang knocked at his door, and together they went through the entire file from the lab. Crystal had brought two pairs of thin rubber gloves, and Clark felt a thrill of CSI-like excitement. They took out more than a third of the notes, leaving enough to create a solid piece of evidence but not hardly enough to trace the creation of the drug.

Clark burned the papers in the gas hearth, and both he and Crystal heaved a sigh when she scattered the remains with a hairpin.

"You'll ruin it," Clark said.

"Performing a small sacrifice helps you reach your goals," Crystal returned airily. "Besides, it's only stainless steel, not silver. I wear it as a broach, anyway." She sat back on her haunches. "What are you going to do with the folder?"

"Put it back in the lab. Whoever wants it, can have it."

"I heard your General had some difficulty persuading the local law to let him back into the underground temple."

"We're having difficulty persuading the local law to let us do anything," Clark corrected. "We're not even allowed to leave, now. But nevertheless I should hurry putting this thing back, before they sweep the place and miss it. Or rather…well, you know what I mean."

"Can you do that?" Crystal asked. "They're guarding the entrance."

Clark shrugged. "There are other entrances." He put the file back into its bag. "So, did you see Feng Lao today?"

She nodded. "Yes. And his wife. Only briefly, though. The police wants to see them, too."

"Did they tell you anything? I mean, we know now that the Temple People didn't want the factory because it would destroy most of their flower patches. But all that stuff with the Mayor, and his brother, and Fuji…and not to mention the fact that the Temple People seemed to be against the Phoenix Fire, but did use it on their hostages…"

"Meiying didn't know anything about Fu Yang," Crystal said. She rubbed her thumb and index finger along her hairpin and wiped the soot on her pants. "Which is really strange. No one seems to know about him, while he played such an important role. It leads me to believe that he may have been the orchestrator of it all, you know, the puppeteer. And that he was a Faceless One."

"Faceless One?" Now that sounded enough like a meteor freak that Clark perked up.

"Yes," Crystal said. "A spy. We also call them Doll Faces. A…not a double spy, but a triple spy. Not a spy for the government, but a spy for himself, if you know what I mean. A hider."

"A Faceless One is a spy?" Nope, still no Kryptonite.

"Not an official spy," Crystal said. She frowned, and muttered something in Chinese. "I mean…Someone whose face always changes. Like a doll, you see?"

"Uh…" Most of the dolls Clark was familiar with were pretty constant of features.

Crystal noticed his bewilderment. "There is a type of doll," she said, "known as Ball-Jointed Doll. Part of their appeal is that you can change them. They're very popular in some circles. You can modify them as you like: change the hair, the eyes, the ears…"

"The EARS?"

"Sometimes." She waved her hand. "It's not important. What I mean is…a Faceless One, or a Doll Face is like such a doll. They can't actually change their faces, but their faces are so common that with different hair, and accessories—like glasses, moustaches, etc—they can't be recognized." She put the pin back into her sweater. "We had one, a Faceless One, once, in our company. He was a spy for another company. He had two identities, and it was hard to believe he was the same person…Anyway," another flutter of her hand, "I think Fu Yang is the same. His other identity might have been a policeman. Or a merchant. It is good that he will not dare to show his face again, before he's healed."

Clark gaped at her. "You…Lex told you?"

"Yes. Eye for eye. I hope he suffers terribly, Fu Yang."

Clark had looked at the small young woman with her engaging smile, now thin and sharp like the blade of a knife, and thought that she was even scarier than Lex. Then again, she hadn't seen him slash into that man's face.

"That's not a very Buddhist way to see things, is it?"

"I'm a Catholic."

"Ah," said Clark faintly. "I see."

"You'd better return that file, before it's too late."

"Yes. But about the Temple People…"

"I'm seeing Miss Minh tomorrow," she had cut him short. "Maybe then I can put everything together. And I would like to tell Lex, first. No offence, but he was the one to discover the mystery. He should be the first to get all the facts straight." She had frowned. "He and Chloe. They deserve that, don't you think?"

Clark rolled onto his side and reflected how odd the relationships Lex inspired were. Either people instantly hated him, or they were loyal to him to the core. Odd.

He listened in again. All he could hear was Lex's breathing, and occasionally a rattling sound when his teeth chattered.

"Good luck," Clark muttered, even though Lex could not possibly hear him. He unfocused again and went back to sleep.

*

Seven hours after that first tearing cramp, Lex was wondering if he could kill himself with the same finesse, preparation and grace as he'd handled going cold turkey. He bitterly regretted wasting his precious final dose of Phoenix Fire on Fu Yang—going cold turkey on Phoenix Fire had obviously been a mistake.

He was lying in the middle of the bathroom, spread out on the bath mat, both arms wrapped tight around his waist, convulsing like a rabid dog. He didn't have quite enough left in him to produce foam at the mouth, but he still thought the comparison was dismally correct.

During periods of delirium, his greatest fear was that a couple of reporters jump from behind the wash stand and take pictures of Lex Luthor, rabid dog extraordinaire, shivering in a pathetic heap on the floor in three layers of upper body clothes, bare legs and socks.

Over the hours, he'd made a couple of trips into his room; once or twice because he'd been foolish enough to think he might read a bit in bed in between bouts of vomiting and diarrhea—yeah, that'd been really naive of him!—once, to put a sweater over his soaked-through T-shirt, once to put on socks, and once to find the double-layered llama-woolen jersey he'd brought in case the temperature here ever chanced to go below 40. All radiators were blazing, and he'd even turned on that hideous gas hearth, but he was still so cold his bones ached with it.

Share and share alike. Everything hurts. I think I might have misjudged this situation.

He couldn't remember every being this sick before.

Never.

Of course, the body sooner forgot pain and sickness than the mind, but had he felt quite this FUCKING MISERABLE before?

When his father poisoned him?

That had HURT, but it hadn't made him so FUCKING SICK.

When he was poisoned at eighteen?

He'd definitely been sick, then. Yes, he'd probably puked and shat about as much as he had done now—but that had been over once they found out he'd been poisoned and given him the antidote. It had been a horrible experience, embarrassing and frightening, but at least someone had known how to take care of it, and it had been over after four hours.

The flu? Ha, the flu had been FUN compared to this.

_No_, he corrected himself, _it hadn't been._ As a matter of fact, this felt a whole lot like having the flu, only enriched by those charming moments of total purging. That, and the feeling as if someone had poured acid into his guts, that was different from having the flu.

And he didn't seem to have a fever. At least he didn't think so. Fever might have been preferable; he could have done with a bit of senseless raving. Then again, he didn't need a raised body temperature to hallucinate. Whether it was the last bit of the opiate stored in the fat cells he was now consuming at rapid speed, releasing into his blood, or simple exhaustion, but his personal IMDB provided him with a scale of intriguing pictures while he was emptying his guts in various interesting ways.

"This sucks," he whispered aloud, and moaned when speaking reminded his stomach that it wasn't really on speaking terms with him. _You're empty_, he reasoned. _You can't expel anything more; you're empty, shut up and leave me alone._

Two seconds later he admitted defeat and lurched up straight to face the porcelain bowl again. He was becoming very closely acquainted with this particular toilet. Only a few hours earlier he had thought to himself that the curve of the bowl and the creamy white of it were of a simple yet extraordinary beauty.

(It was at this point that he decided he was probably hallucinating every once in a while)

If only his stomach would listen to reason, though. There really was nothing left to throw up. He knew he should probably drink some water and take salt supplements, but he simply didn't have the energy to get up and get them.

_I really hope to God they didn't give Chloe Phoenix Fire as a sedative_, he thought as he fell back on his pillow with his back against the bath tub. It wasn't likely, since it was rather useless as a painkiller, and she hadn't shown any of the symptoms he'd had while on the old burnin' bird—_but still, please, Christ, don't let her have to go through this as well. _

With a vague sense of shame he realized he hadn't thought about her once since he'd crawled into this room with a pair of tennis socks. Alright, one could probably be forgiven for not thinking about other people while having fits on the bathroom floor, but still, it wasn't very considerate.

He was really thirsty.

Maybe, if he took just a sip and didn't swallow, he might be able too keep it in.

Lex took a deep breath, pulled himself up and reached for the water bottle on the basin. He took a mouthful, sloshed it through his mouth until most of it was gone, and swallowed the tiny bit that was left. He could feel every drop run down his trachea, felt it reach his stomach, and he swore he could feel his stomach consider its presence like a pack of wild dogs sniffing an unknown object that had suddenly appeared in their midst. Or his 2003 HP laptop. He used to have a strangely selective laptop that only accepted Sony recordable cds and spat out self-burnt cds of any other brand. The cd drive of that laptop was one of the largest things he'd ever put through his blender.

He waited anxiously for a moment, but after a slight hesitation, his body accepted the water, which encouraged him to take another sip. That one stayed down, too. Thank god for small mercies. He sank back to the ground, put his head on the pillow and fell asleep.

*

When he woke up again, jerking upright with both his hands fending off inexistent razors, it was five hours later and the worst of his stomach problems seemed to have passed. It still hurt, but he could drink as much water as he liked without further rebellion from his insides, and while food was the very last thing on his mind, he wasn't feeling quite so bad anymore.

Correction: he didn't feel like killing himself anymore.

The debilitating nausea had been replaced by a general queasiness, which was unpleasant but by no means unconquerable, and while he felt just as weak as he'd had after that one night of flu fever, his lightheadedness didn't stop him from showering, brushing his teeth, changing his clothes and checking his mail. It was now 1 o'clock AM, and he might have called Chloe if both the hour had been earlier and he'd known whether she had a phone at the hospital. He read five mails, replied to three and then found himself so exhausted that he dropped off with the laptop cuddled in his arms like a teddy bear.

When he woke up next, gasping and shivering, it was light again. His entire body felt like mercury; with every movement it ran all over the place, and while the cramps had abated completely, he now suffered from an annoying continuous tremble that made it impossible to hold a book, or type, or do anything than lie on the bed and be bored.

Or be ill.

No matter how positively he assessed his situation, the fact was that he'd managed to get himself well and truly fucked up this time. Even he was not so blind to maintain that this little stunt, both his short-lived career as a full-time junkie, and this uncontrolled kicking of the habit, had not done any serious damage. He didn't doubt his heart, if it _had_ been affected, would repair itself again. But he hurt, and he felt powerless and nervous and alone and scared in a way he had never felt before, not even on his deserted island, and he wasn't sure how to remedy those feelings.

Taking a nice fat dose of Phoenix Fire would probably do the trick.

He thought about it for a while: about sliding the needle into his arm, about the gentle pressure it took to inject himself, about the slow rush of calm and energy. Whenever his trembling worsened with want for that rush, distracting him from his dream, he'd pull his mind back and force it to remember the sensations, and how incredibly good it would feel to put a syringe into his vein right now and end this suffering.

Then, as his shaking was making the bed rattle, he said aloud and listened to the desperate plea that left his lips: "I want it. God, I want it. I need more of it." Heard the piteousness in his own hoarse voice, and dismissed the desire like the artificial craving it was.

He was stronger than begging for a fix. It just took him a little more effort to be strong than usual. Well, ok, a lot.

_Part of it, _he gathered, rocking his upper body back and forth, _is just plain bodily weakness. I couldn't handle a needle if I wanted to._ Good thing he didn't want to. And that there wasn't a needle he could handle.

Food was still out of the question. He drank orange juice instead.

He once called Clark to ask him if he knew how Chloe was doing, but Clark's phone was turned off and he broke the connection before the beep of his voicemail. No one, he reflected, eyes brimming with physical wretchedness and self-pity, seemed to be at all concerned with how HE was doing. One would have thought that a social animal like Clark, a being as close as a Knight in shining armor as was possible these days, would have put their enmity aside and come by at least once to ask if he were still alive.

He wallowed in tearful misery for a few minutes, then wiped his eyes and told himself to stop being a blubbering fool. Luthors did not cry like six-year-olds, not even when recovering from addiction.

The room was too silent. Lex decided to do something more useful than indulging in senseless tears and turned on the news.

Ten minutes later he had fallen asleep again.

TBC


	20. Chapter 19

**Isn't it great how has this 'stat' option so you can see how many people read yours stuff? So you can see exactly how many people DON'T take the trouble reviewing? It's quite enlightening.**

So…many thanks to those sweet people who do! Those who don't…shame on you. I've now written over 300 pages and you don't even bother telling me you appreciate it. Or hate it (although if you hate it and are still reading it you must be a masochist, at this point, I guess…) If you would, I'd probably update much more often since reviews make me write that much faster. Then again, I'll keep on writing anyway, so you can put this aside you if you want.

Just telling you that reviews are appreciated. And that I'm in a really foul mood. You might have noticed :)

**Nineteen: Clark Fails to Break an Agreement**

"Where is Lex?" Chloe Sullivan sat propped up in pillows and faced Clark with a stubborn expression that felt comfortably like High School. "And don't give me that nonsense of 'he's busy' or 'he'll come by soon'. He almost drowned me in care and pity when he accidentally _bruised_ me once, so you can't convince me he won't come to see me because he's _busy_."

"Yes, well," Lois began, looking up from the temple pictures on Clark's laptop—Lois, who had been nothing short of miraculously gentle on Lex.

But gentleness wasn't always the best way, Clark thought. Maybe it was better to just come clean and save her the shock later. After all, she was doing a whole lot better than yesterday, just as Doctor Chen had promised.

"He's sick," he said with a shrug to indicate that it really was no big deal. The last time he'd checked before going to the hospital, Lex had been fast asleep, breathing deeply and regularly. "Withdrawal symptoms. He's…"

"Withdrawal symptoms? From what?"

"Phoenix Fire."

"WHAT?" She winced and clasped her hand to her side, then glared from Clark to Lois back to Clark again. "Clark Kent," she hissed furiously, "in the name of friendship and because otherwise, I swear to god, I will knock you over the head with my crutch, tell me what happened to Lex! No more secrets. Tell me!"

Clark smiled, glad he could. Like Chloe, he was quite sure Lex would be fine, probably sooner than her. _And then they can go back to being a couple; Chloe and Lex. I don't think I've ever actually seen them together…_He shook his head clear of the sudden uncomfortable thoughts and images rising in his mind, and said, "When you had disappeared from the laboratory in town, Lex came after you. But he was shot down as well—tranquilized, I mean, and until Lois here got him out three days ago, someone named Fuji experimented on him with Phoenix Fire."

"Fuji? You mean Fu Yang? He experimented on Lex?!"

He cast a sideways glance at Lois, then gave an internal shrug and said, "Fuji…Fu Yang? He'd found out that Lex…heals, kind of fast."

"Yeah," Lois muttered, "he does." She did not mention the cuts, though.

"But…Phoenix Fire?" She struggled to sit up straighter. "It's dangerous! It's terribly, terribly…People get heart attacks from Phoenix Fire! He's…"

"He's fine," Clark said soothingly, and pressed her back with soft insistence. "He didn't have a heart attack. He's just been sick for the past two days, beating the addiction. It's…"

"Addiction." Chloe stared, aghast. She grasped for her purse, hanging from a knob on her side table, and cursed as she pulled at her stitches. She moved pretty smoothly, though. They must have given her good pain killers. "Why didn't you tell me? I mean, seriously guys," she rummaged through the bag, at last coming up with her phone, "what's with the protective behavior? I'm not the goddamned Lady of Shalott, you know! I can handle reality! It's empty!" She thrust the cell at Clark. He took it obediently, thrilled to see her back in action again. Even a Chloe who was seriously annoyed with him was far preferable to the suffering girl in the hospital bed. Even though she still was, technically, a suffering girl in a hospital bed. Now she was worried about Lex, she seemed to have put the remnants of anesthesia sickness behind her, and acted a whole lot more like herself.

"I've kept my charger in my suitcase. Could you please find the one that fits this one and charge my phone? Or bring it back here? If he's too sick to come here, at least I can call him. Who knows, maybe he's called me, and he never reached me."

"I don't think he knows I brought back your purse from the temple," Clark mused.

"Then please tell him. Or…He can talk, can't he?" she asked anxiously.

Lois snorted, then covered her nose with her hand. "Sorry," she said, "head cold. Don't mean to be callous." She sniffed.

"He's just sick," Clark reassured Chloe. "I mean, pretty darn sick, but still, I think he's doing better now. Don't worry about him. I'm sure he'll be happy to call you."

"Ok." She kept looking at him, clearly expecting him to go and perform his errands right now.

Clark grinned. He wasn't used to be the sidekick. But that was fine. He didn't mind to be set to work as long as it kept her happy. He gestured at the laptop balanced on Lois' knees. "Why don't you look at the pictures I took? Maybe you can help us figure out what's been going on."

"Sure."

"I'll bring back your phone as soon as it's charged," he promised. "And I'll see if Lex is up for conversation. I need to talk to him anyway. Lois. Need anything from the hotel?"

"No, I'm good. If Chloe doesn't mind I'd like to go back in a bit, have a shower and get a clean set of clothes."

"Oh, Lois! Of course! I'm sorry, I didn't even…"

"Don't you dare feel guilty, missy! I'll remorselessly cheat you out of ANY chocolate bar you might bring to work for the next three months. AND make you buy me bagels." She sat down on the edge of the bed, putting the laptop on the covers, and nudged Chloe's shoulder. "First get better, THEN we'll work on your guilt issues, ok?"

Clark left them leaning against one another, muttering over the pictures he'd taken. He himself strolled back to the hotel, turning Chloe's cell over and over in his hand.

Chloe and Lex.

Lex and Chloe.

Somehow, it hadn't really registered until now. So far, he'd known they were together, but he had still seen them as separate individuals. But they weren't two of his friends, they were a mutually befriended COUPLE. How weird was that? The girl he'd always loved like a sister, his best friend, confidante and occasionally as more than that; and the man he…god, he didn't even know what Lex was to him. A friend, now, he guessed. After all, Chloe's boyfriend should be his friend, too, right?

A boyfriend I slept with.

It was so very, very wrong that he knew what the both of them felt and tasted like when he kissed them. He didn't remember much of that one instance of heat and insanity, but he had remembered that: kissing Lex until he'd stopped struggling.

_Ah, Christ, I raped my best friend's boyfriend!_ He didn't know if it was too awful for words or too funny to laugh. What a stupid, twisted, sick triangle this was! Put Lana in and you had a relationship parallelogram, if you regarded her short, blue Monday fling with Lex, her friendship with Chloe, and her off-and-on relationship with Clark himself.

('What DID she see in Lex, Smallville?' Lois had once asked him, when they'd been celebrating a corrupt Judge's downfall through Press stalking, sneaking and intervention. Lois had been rather drunk at the time, Chloe'd been on the toilet for some time, and Clark was pretending to be tipsy. 'I mean, why would she go to HIM, of all people? As far as I understand, Lana could have half the country. And so, thought god knows I don't know why, could Lex. Why'd they hook up, if only for a few weeks or so?'

'Twelve days,' Clark had said. 'And she came back to me when I called her. Immediately after.'

'Yeah, but still…why? You know why, Clark?' Lois hand tossed back her rum and slammed the glass in front of him on the bar. 'I'm Lex, yeah? I'm Lex. And I detest you. Now, I'm Lex, so I'm not a real man, so what do I do? I don't confront you, I take notice. And I see this girl.'

'Lois…'

'No, no, hear me out. You know what Lex was thinking? Why he chose Lana to charm and whisk away to his Erlkonig castle? D'you know what he thought?'

'Lois, you're drunk. You don't know…'

'She's pretty. She's lonely. She's stupid—no, make that impressionable. And CLARK WANTS HER.' During the voicing of those phrases, Lois' staccato voice had taken on a disturbing mimicry of Lex's most insulting drawl. More disturbing than her imitation, however, was the fact that Clark knew that she was right. Dead on.

'Lana isn't stupid.'

'I didn't say she was.' She held up her finger to the barman for another rum. 'Just what HE would've thought. Jeez, Smallville,' she had shaken her head. 'I know the two of you, Lana and you, have made up by now, but…how the hell could you have been so DUMB?' )

Yeah, Lois._ What about Lois?_ A tiny voice in the back of his head whispered. _Where does Lois fit in into all of this?_

He shook his head. People could make movies about this kind of ridiculous love affairs.

Considering, he pulled his own cell out of his pocket. It was his own American phone, and calling to Metropolis would be awfully expensive. But hell, he hadn't called Lana since he and Lex had found Chloe, and he really needed to tell her that he loved her. Just to keep one of their clueless parallelogram well-informed, and to reassure himself that he did love her, and wanted to hear her voice.

Things had been so much easier in Smallville, when he was fifteen, loved Lana from a distance, still had Pete and Chloe as best friends, was scolded for drinking out of the milk carton by his mom and urged to be careful above all by his father, and when Lex was the absent son of a man only his parents knew.

No.

No, in spite of it all, that wasn't true. He wouldn't want to trade in having Lana for anything. It had taken much heartbreak for the both of them, and even now he lived in continual fear that he would hurt her somehow, but for now they were together, and happy. And knowing Lex, as a friend and even as an enemy, had not created bad memories alone. If there was anyone who had forced him to consider what he was and who he wanted to be, even more than his parents, it was Lex. And Pete? He hadn't heard from him in months. Birthday cards and the odd email, once or twice a year, and diminishing.

Apart from that one crazy week when they'd decided that if Clark couldn't get Lana, it was ok to have Chloe as a substitute—possibly the cruelest thing he'd ever done to her—his relationship with Chloe was the one thing that had remained stable over all these years. His _friend_. His loyal, sweet, soft, funny friend.

And now this best of friends belonged to and with someone else, and that someone was Lex.

Yes, he definitely needed to call Lana and hear her voice. He turned on his phone, having turned it off at the hospital, and noticed two missed calls, both from Lex. First Lana. Then Lex.

*

Clark listened at Lex's door before knocking, checking whether he was awake. He was. Clark could hear the whisper of paper—a page being turned in a book or a file. At Clark's knock, he sat up straight in his bed but didn't answer.

Clark knocked again.

"Go away," Lex said hoarsely.

"It's me, Clark," Clark said. He waited for a reply and got none. "I went to see Chloe," he tried. "She needs the charger of her phone. It's dead, and she wants to call you."

Lex's skeleton sagged, head drooping, then gingerly crawled out of bed and made its slow way to the door. Clark switched back to normal sight just before the door unlocked, and opened it as Lex's footsteps walked away from the door again. "Come in, then."

When Clark entered, he had just stepped back into bed again. Clark caught a glimpse of very pale bare legs before they disappeared under the cover. "Hi," he said.

Lex nodded. He looked somewhat peaky and colorless but not half as bad as Clark had expected, and quite composed. Mister Hyde had turned back into Dr. Jekyll. "Her suitcase's over there. I think she kept it in there. The Sony Ericsson; it has an adapter fitted to the plug."

"Thanks." He scanned the suitcase and picked out the charger easily enough. Deciding he shouldn't keep Chloe from calling, he immediately plugged it in and let it charge. The phone gave a satisfied tinkle. "I see you've stopped balancing glasses on the door handle?"

"The hotel staff chastised me for making a mess." He picked up a glass of orange juice from his bedside table. "At the moment I'm too dependent on them to risk their wrath."

Clark smiled. "You're feeling better then?"

"Peachy," said Lex dryly. He drew up his knees, loosely draped his arms around them. "You said you saw Chloe. How was she?"

"Pretty much herself. That is to say, upbeat, curious and eager to get out of the hospital." He paused. "They give her a lot of painkillers. She's a bit woozy, and she'd been sick of the anesthesia, but considering the circumstances, pretty good." He paused again. Lex's unblinking gaze made him uncomfortable. "She asked for you. She was worried about you."

"So what did you tell her?"

"That they'd experimented on you with Phoenix Fire and that you were sick and wouldn't be able to visit her just yet."

Lex's mouth dropped open. "You…" he cleared his throat. "You're kidding, right? You didn't really tell her that."

"Yes, I did." He bluntly plowed ahead, silencing Lex before the older man could start raving about what to tell his girlfriend. _Lex's girlfriend._ Chloe. He licked his lip. "You know what she's like; she'd have found out anyway—if Lois didn't tell her already."

"Chloe does not need to worry about me!" Lex snarled. "She's got plenty to worry about with her own lopsided crucifixion!"

"Worrying about you, knowing you're safe, takes her mind off worrying about herself," Clark refuted. "She has the right to know what happened to you. And knowing you, you'd never tell her of your own volition, and then she'd get mad when she found out, because she would find out, you know what she's like, and you'd have a fight and she'd never trust you again." He smiled a tiny, bitter smile. "Trust is oh so important for a relationship. It'll ruin you if you aren't honest with her. Believe me, I've done you a favor telling her you've been that Fuji guy's guinea pig." _And I didn't tell her how you sliced him up with his own scalpel, and then shot him up with that filth he put inside of you. That's all for you to tell._

"Fu Yang," Lex corrected absentmindedly. He rubbed his stomach, looked away. "You still shouldn't have told her. It's not yours to tell her about my latest…whatever you want to call it. I'd have told it differently."

"You don't even know how I brought it."

Lex sneered. "I can guess."

They were silent for a while. Lex sipped his orange juice. Once in a while, a tremor would start up in his right arm, travel through his body, and then go away again. He looked frail and kind of helpless, and suddenly Clark said, "Now we're talking, there is something else I have to say to you."

Lex lowered his glass, then put it aside. He focused on Clark with that unnerving intensity, the kind Clark had found so thrilling when he'd been a teenager. He still wasn't capable of his usual amiability, but some of his tetchiness left his face, and his voice was almost pleasant when he said, "You sound serious. What's troubling you?"

"It's…" His thoughts went too fast. He took a second to gather those thoughts, tie them up and truss them into words. "I just wanted to tell you that the next time I'm…when I heat up…I won't take it out on you." Lex didn't speak. He simply kept watching Clark. "I mean," Clark stumbled on, "Christ, you're Chloe's BOYFRIEND!"

"I'd like to think of myself as being my own person," Lex said quietly.

"You know what I mean! You're my best friend's boyfriend." He looked away. "Cheating on Lana is bad enough," he mumbled. "I only did it because I don't…because I was so afraid of hurting her." Like he was afraid telling her who and what he was would kill her, like it had done once before. Because somehow, whenever girls he loved knew of his origins, they died. Alicia, Lana, in a way…All died except Chloe. "Because I thought it wouldn't hurt YOU. But it DID hurt you, and if I'd ever do it again I wouldn't just be jeopardizing my relationship with Lana, but also my friendship with Chloe. Worse, I'd jeopardize _your_ relationship with Chloe." He looked up, made himself say it. "And my friendship with you, too."

"Friendship? We have an arrangement," Lex said, still in that quiet, level voice. "As far as I know, as I understand it, there is no friendship."

Clark said nothing. He had said it himself, several times, 'This friendship is over', 'We aren't friends.' He didn't think Lex had ever said it aloud himself. On the contrary; even while whetting the knife to stab Clark in the back, Lex had always offered to renew their friendship. Even though he should be glad Lex had finally given up pretenses, hearing those words directed at him made Clark's stomach cramp with regret. Especially since this time, he had almost thought that they might stand a chance again.

Lex smiled thinly, though not without sympathy. "I should say," he said, "it's become pretty clear the two of us are incapable of maintaining a healthy friendship, though not for lack of trying. Don't think I'm being ungrateful. I am very grateful, and always have been, for what you've done for me. I even like you—genuinely like you. You may not believe me, but even if you weren't an alien, I'd still be interested in you as a person. But while we may not be enemies at the moment, we are not friends. For our old friendship's sake, I tell you not to mistake what this is," a vague gesture to himself, the bed, and Clark, who was sitting on the end of it, "with friendship. We have reached a…an armistice. An agreement. And me being the receiver of the side-effects of your heat is part of that agreement."

"Then I break that arrangement."

"Yes? Did you find a substitute?"

Clark felt a blush climbing up and frantically fought it down. "Not yet," he said. "Maybe I won't have to. I'll just do something strenuous, that should bleed it off."

"Should."

"I'll find a solution, Lex, and you're not part of it. Christ, I'd think you'd be relieved!" He frowned. "Or are you so good at lying to yourself you've decided that you actually liked it? You can't tell me you actually liked it, or that you've convinced yourself that you did." God, he still felt guilty if he remembered the animalistic fear in the man's eyes the morning he came by to ask what the hell he'd done precisely, and if he'd done as much damage as he was afraid he'd done.

Lex's lip curled before he could contain the expression. "I didn't. It was…less than pleasant, even if it did have a certain charm…" Clark stared, aghast. Lex shrugged. "I'm still thinking about ways to distill that pheromone you produced."

"I knew it," Clark said disgustedly. "You're willing to sacrifice your own body to find out more about mine."

Lex snorted. "That was part of the attraction, yes. But I'm surprised you'd think I'd sell my body that cheap. What are you going to do when you're suddenly assaulted by your hot condition, Clark? Who are you going to assault in my place? Because that's what it's going to be. Assault. Rape. What are you going to do, abduct some poor woman and…"

"I would never do that! I'd find some other way to…"

"Are you sure you'd be thinking clearly at that time? You weren't when you came to me."

"I thought you'd be able to…to take it!"

"And I was. And like you told me yourself just before you stuck your tongue down my throat, I may be the only person on earth that IS able to 'take' you on. I mean, you'd need someone tight. That was why you couldn't come, because women became too slick for you. So, women are out as my replacement. Unless you're willing to do them anally, and I don't…"

"Christ, Lex!"

Lex smiled, a cruel little glint of teeth. "That's what I thought. Even if you DID take them from behind, you'd probably hurt them. You lose control, you leave bruises. You might even break bones." Clark wished he'd shut up, but he couldn't seem to close his mouth and swallow, and Lex calmly continued his list of reasons why it was bad to abandon him as his next rape victim. "So, no women. Children might work, in level of tightness, but I'm afraid I'd have to kill you if you ever even contemplated resorting to that."

_CHILDREN_??? Clark was so shocked he almost swallowed his tongue and choked on it. "I would NEVER…I'd never even CONSIDERED…How could you even THINK I'd ever…!!!"

"I know you wouldn't," Lex said smoothly, cutting him off. "And I'm not implying that you would. I'm just making a point here. I know you'd never hurt a child, nor a woman if you can help it. So that leaves men—ah, no, you don't do anal. Except you do. And men ARE more hardy than women. Still, the kind of hardcore bare-backing you'd inflict on them…"

Clark's mouth closed, enabling him to swallow. "OK! You made your point!"

"Did I?" Lex wondered. "Somehow, I doubt it. Let me put it this way. If you were to find yourself another crash test heat dummy, it would have to be a person that trusts you implicitly, and that you trust implicitly in return—or find yourself with a Kryptonite dagger between your ribs at your one big moment of vulnerability. He or she would know that you are not human. They'd find out the moment you lose your cool and start hammering into them."

Lex, Clark thought, with disgust directed as much at the other man as at himself, had a unique way of presenting facts in a singularly vulgar, harsh, destructive kind of way. What made it worse was that he was right.

"I know," he said, repressing the urge to take a handful of hair and tug at it. "I _know_."

"But I don't think you understand." Lex leaned back in his pillows. The ugly smile was gone. "How many people know who and what you are? How many people that you _trust_?"

"What does that…"

"How many?" Lex stuck up three fingers. "Three. Myself, your mother, and Chloe. When you were in heat, you automatically concluded that you'd have to depend on someone you could trust, someone who knew you, and who knew about your powers. Lana didn't work out for you, but she didn't know what you are. Maybe another woman, someone who DID know what you are, would have worked out better. Now tell me, Clark…" His eyes bored into Clark's, dark and deadly serious. "How close did you come doing to Chloe what you later did to me? Assuming," he added, "that you never even thought about approaching your mother."

"No…" Clark whispered, both as answer to the question and in negation. "No, I never…I'd never do anything to hurt Chloe."

"No?"

"No! I would NEVER hurt Chloe! She's my best friend, I wouldn't…"

"She's…my…girlfriend," Lex said softly, putting emphasis on every word in turn. "She may be your friend but she's my _Girlfriend_. She is to me what Lana is to you. And if you ever become a threat to her I will take you out." He lifted his eyes to Clark's. His mouth curled at the corners as it always did, but there was no humor whatsoever in his tone. "Do you get it now? She's MINE. And that also means mine to protect. If that means I have to sacrifice myself to you to keep her safe, so be it. I'll survive. I'll get something out of it. Don't worry, I'm not being altruistic. I simply don't want to take chances with what you can inflict on other people." He smiled, then, though still as humorless as a corpse. "You're a decent guy, Clark. But you're still an alien."

There was a strange mixture of affection and cold matter-of-factness in his observation. From anyone but Lex, it would have sounded like a downright insult. Lex, however, did have a point, no matter how much Clark wanted to deny it. He wasn't human, even if he excelled at pretending to be one. Lex knew that better even, perhaps, than Martha Kent. Still, it hurt. "That's low," Clark said therefore, and Lex nodded.

"Yes, it is. You can't help your heritage any more than I can help mine. But it does not change anything. You save people, and all you want to do is be an asset to humanity to make up for your lack of it. You're what most people would call a 'Good Man'. But when someone puts a necklace of Red K around your neck you become something more of a Bad Boy." When Chloe talked about Clark's days as a Bad Boy, she made it sound cheeky. To be frowned upon, sure, but nothing to worry about. Lex made it sound…_bad_.

Clark winced. _How did he find out about THAT? _

"Oh, I wouldn't say you'd become a danger to society," Lex continued. He picked up his orange juice again, twirled the glass round and round in his fingers. "Just a bit of a delinquent. When you were a teenager, that was. Who knows, if I implanted a bit of Red K in your neck now, you might become a terrorist. After all, you've grown up, just like the rest of us." He sneered, more at himself than at Clark. "And if you lose your temper," he went on when Clark couldn't find anything for his defense, "you throw people against walls and through windows. You toss cars around as if they're playing cards.

'And I'm not even getting started on your other little alien…quirks." His voice dropped; the sneer trembled and failed. He blinked, no longer looking at Clark. Another one of those long quivers passed through his body.

Clark frowned at this sudden display of insecurity. His own anger seeped away at the sight of it. "Lex,"

"I dreamt about you, you know," he interrupted. The juice in his glass sloshed from side to side in his hands. "When I was…high. In Fengfei's basement. I once thought you were there with me. That you'd come to get me out."

Clark stilled. Lex still wasn't looking at him. "Yes?" he asked quietly. "What did I do?"

"You said…" He trailed off, face tight. A humorless smile curved his lips to a parody of mirth.

"What?" Clark prodded gently.

"It's really very silly," Lex drawled. "You said you appreciated the irony of me being tied up helpless on a table." The glass stopped moving.

Clark felt his blood fly to his face in a hot rush of blazing guilt, then drain away and leaving him dizzy. _I did. I would. God help me, but I did!_

Lex hadn't noticed; his eyes were still on his glass. He swallowed, the drawl slipping away. "I w-…" He licked his lower lip, sneered at his own falter. "I wondered if that…Is that what would have happened if you'd found me, instead of Lois? Would…would you have hesitated to get me off that thing?"

And now he looked up, and if Fu Yang had been in the same room at that moment, Clark would have given Lex another razor and held the Chinese bastard immobile while Lex cut him to pieces. Because through all they had been through together—Lex's induced and inbred madness, his manipulation of Clark, his parents and his friends, and Clark's downright warfare against Lex—he had never read any self-doubt in Lex's face. He had often wished for it: some sign of uncertainty, guilt, the knowledge that Lex knew that what he was doing was, or could be, wrong. So far, he had never seen it. Lex was as fickle as fish in a pond, but he was absurdly constant in his self-confidence. Seeing that confidence not only shaken but completely blown to pieces…Hell, that was as if one of the standard values of the universe was taken away.

Clark was surprised at the horror seeing such rending doubt in a Luthor's eyes inspired in him.

"No!" he said vehemently. "No! Lex, no. I wouldn't have hesitated. Never." Words were not enough. He took the glass out of Lex's limp hand, put it aside and pulled his unresisting form in a very careful but tight embrace. He was afraid but prepared to have Lex freak out, but he didn't, he just leaned forward, not returning the hold, but not resisting it either. "I've hated you, at times," Clark said, "and I've hurt you a few times, just like you hurt me. But God, Lex, you have to believe me, I would NOT have left you tied to that table. I wouldn't. I wouldn't have."

He could feel the tremors under Lex's skin, and without knowing he did, stroked his hands over his back, as if the man was a skittish horse or a colicky cow. It didn't seem to improve matters much; he only trembled harder. "I wouldn't have left you there," he repeated in a whisper, rubbing his fingers over tensed muscles until the shivering subsided. "Hell, Lex, if there's anyone I would always save it's you. If only because you need it so often. I'd be a pretty rotten hero if I paused to consider whether someone deserved to be saved just because I didn't agree with their views."

Lex snorted against his shoulder. He pressed his hands against Clark's shoulders, pushing himself away from him, and Clark was immensely grateful to find him more or less dry-eyed and smirking, even if it was a wobbly little reflection of his usual expression.

"Thank you." Sarcasm, but not so much.

"You're welcome." He blushed, ashamed now for his open show of affection while they had just established that they really couldn't be friends. Then again…He could hardly let Lex believe that Clark would have LEFT him there, could he?

They were silent for a bit, both a little self-conscious, but not uncomfortably so. It was strange, Clark thought, but whenever he and Lex fought it cleared the air, and even while it drove them a little bit further apart every time, it also enabled him to feel something akin to sympathy for his old friend again. Old friend, old enemy. Somehow they always kept bumping into one another; sometimes to fight, sometimes to ask for one another's aid, sometimes because even Metropolis simply wasn't big enough to accommodate the both of them.

_And sometimes because of our mutual friends._ He was still upset about the alien remark, but there was something quite touching about Lex's desire to keep Chloe safe and his resolve to battle aliens to do so. It wasn't directed at Clark, reporter with the Daily Planet and childhood friend of Chloe Sullivan, but at Kal-El, plane door-ripping, flying alien—and probably with good reason. Kal-El had been a scarily inhuman person.

There was no doubt that she loved him, and neither did he have any reservations about Lex's feelings for Chloe. Although he should have known that, really. Lex was pretty much the king of liars, but he was almost painfully honest when it came to loving people—especially women. Clark might need to kill Lex one day, _take him out_ as he put it himself, but it wouldn't be for hurting Chloe.

The thought, however wrong and twisted, was an immense relief. He felt a wave of fondness run through him, and when he looked up from his knees he found Lex's gaze on his face, and a faint crooked smile that looked exactly like the one he felt on his own lips curving his mouth. Armistice was what Lex called it. Clark saw it more like a temporary burying of hatchets. Maybe one day he'd be able to plant flowers on top of the earth. Or install a bird bath, or something.

But never purple flowers.

Lex shivered again.

"Are you cold?"

"No. Yes. No." He sneered. "I'm an addict. Addicts shake when they can't score. It'll pass. I shook when I stopped doing coke, too. That only lasted about three hours, though," he added as an afterthought.

"So…" Clark took a moment to assess the working of the other man's body: heartbeat, respiration, muscles, scars. He couldn't see any fractures. Apart from the quivers and the obvious weakness, Lex actually was in a much better condition than he'd feared. "Are you okay now?"

"No," said Lex. "Not yet. I still want it." He poked out his tongue to lip his lower lip, caught himself, took a sip of orange juice. His throat clicked as he swallowed. "Badly."

Clark thought hard and short, then ventured, "I saved some of it."

"Say what?"

"You were right about a laboratory. When I went back to the temple and searched it again I found some sort of lab. It was stripped completely, either by the police or by the Temple folk. All that was left were the instruments they must have used to make the drug, but nothing else…"

"But you found a few doses?" Lex breathed. He was shivering harder. Clark desperately hoped he hadn't played his card too early. Anyway, too late to take it back.

"They'd dropped a vial. I saved it in case…in case you went…badly."

Lex stared at him for a good three seconds. Then he lifted his hand and very gently slapped Clark's cheek. It was a calculated gesture, designed to get a message across rather than to express anger.

"Clark," Lex said in what was almost a sing-song. "Don't tell the addict you have some of his dope stuffed away in a secret stash. It's cruel."

"I didn't tell you this to TEMPT you," Clark said, feigning indignation. "I just thought, if you're still very ill and it would be better to diminish it slowly…"

"No." He all but barked it. "No. I need to stop this now. I need…"

"Then I'll destroy it."

"Yes, you'd better…" he stopped. Behind the steady blue of his eyes, Mister Hyde peeked out and tapped a huge hairy knuckle against the inside of Lex's forehead. Clark could almost hear the knocking sound, and had to stop himself from smiling. _You fell for it, Lex. _ "No, don't destroy it. We might need it later. Do you have it with you?"

"No, no, no," Clark said. "Like you said, I'm not going to torment you by keeping it close by. I'll vaporize it."

"The police might…"

"I think they managed to pick up a dose as well." He nodded to himself. "Don't worry. I'll keep it safely away from you. I'll burn it as soon as I leave to give Chloe her phone back."

Lex opened his mouth, then closed it. Suddenly, he grinned; rather shark-like, and not a little sardonic, but wide and heart-felt. Clark was a study in concerned innocence. "That," Lex said, "is…impressive."

"What is?" Clark asked artlessly.

"Drop the act, Clark, I've seen through it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You say there were no notes in the lab? No charts? Nothing?"

"Sorry. Nothing I could find before the police took over the place. Maybe they've found some files…but I didn't. Maybe you should ask McCarthy. He seems to have an understanding with the police."

Lex nodded slowly. "I will. Yes, I believe I will." His predatory grin had faded, but a hint of it remained, and when he looked up at Clark he almost seemed cheerful. Relieved, perhaps. It couldn't be easy to be ruled by your own obsessions. Maybe there was a certain reprieve in being cheated out of them. He gestured at the cell recharging on the table. "Are you taking that back to Chloe right away?"

"Yes."

"Could you tell her I'll come and see her this afternoon?"

Clark grinned. "You will? I mean, are you well enough?"

"If I turn out not to be, at least I couldn't choose a better place to collapse," said Lex. He picked up his orange juice and took a great swig.

"I'll tell her." Clark unplugged the charger and shoved both phone and charger into his pocket. "Do you want me to come and pick you up?"

"Nah, I'll get there on my own. Although I would appreciate it if you could persuade Miss Private to be elsewhere when I make my visits."

"Actually, Lois has been pretty cool about you, these past few days." Lex snorted. "No, really!"

"Must be related to the fact that you have all finally realized that I am her cousin's _Boyfriend_," Lex drawled. "Apparently, that saves me from all sorts of erratic personal behavior."

"Don't push it, Lex."

Lex held up his hands. "This is me, not pushing. You've just refused me the means to push."

Clark frowned. "Are we still talking about the same thing?"

"I sincerely doubt it," Lex said earnestly.

Clark sighed. "I can't say how DELIGHTED I am to see that you're back to your old self again," he said.

Lex shrugged. He wasn't. He wasn't anywhere near close to his old self, to the extent that even his masks didn't cover up the cracks in his psyche. But Clark feared he'd have repaired his masks long before he could get used to an uncertain Luthor.

"I'll see you later," said Clark.

"Yeah," said Lex from the bed, and took another sip of orange juice.

*

"Hey," said Lex.

"Hey," Chloe said back. Her smile was welcoming but a bit wavery. Her lips were pale but a flush tinted her cheeks, and when he very carefully hugged her he felt her skin hot against his face and fingertips. Not alarmingly hot, not burning, but still; feverish. On the final edge of the medication wave, Lex thought. Poor girl.

"How do you feel?"

"Stupid," she said. She made no move to remove her loosely clasped arms from behind his head, so he remained that way too: sitting on the edge of her bed, leaning forward so she didn't have to raise her upper body without breaking the embrace. "Pretty rotten," she added into his neck. "I have a headache. I mean, my leg hurts, and my side, but what's really bugging me is this headache. Isn't that dumb? It's like this man I once interviewed. He'd gone to the hospital to have his knee transplanted, and they cut off his leg instead. And when I was there all he was complaining about was that he had a toothache. And it turned out they'd dropped an instrument on his teeth while they were amputating his leg. It's really stupid." She sighed, leaned back. Lex let her go and sat back himself. He clenched his hands to keep a quiver at bay. "He got a lot of money from his insurance," Chloe mused. "Totally bled the hospital dry."

"I'm sorry," said Lex guiltily. "I'll give you lots of money too."

"Huh? Oh, no! The doctors said my leg's gonna be just fine. It'll just take some time." Her eyes ran over his face, and her mouth quirked. "Wow. You look like shit."

Lex clacked his tongue. "Whenever we both happen to be at the hospital you say this to me. It's not a very nice thing to say, you know. Besides, I'm sure you look a lot worse than me."

"And here we go again," Chloe sighed. Lex grinned, recalling a very similar conversation that had taken place right after he'd miraculously turned into her doormat. "You're so vain. Why can't you just accept my word for it and just…accept it?"

"I'm not vain," Lex protested. "I'm just better-looking than you."

She snorted, then grew serious again. "Clark told me you'd been tortured. That they'd given you Phoenix Fire."

"Clark should keep his big fat mouth shut once in a while," Lex said pleasantly.

"But they did? And you were sick all this time—that's why you couldn't visit me, right? Because you were sick."

Lex gave an unwilling shrug. Even though this was Chloe, and he trusted her better than anyone else, he still was averse to talk about his weaknesses. "I'm better now."

"And up goes the wall, and on goes the mask," she sighed. She reached up and stroked her fingers down his cheek. "It's good to see you, Lex."

He captured her fingers, pressed them between his own. "It's good to see you too. I'm sorry I couldn't get to you sooner."

"Apparently you had a good reason to be late. And you did get me out, in the end." Again, she sighed. "I just want to go home, now. Why can't we go home? Uncle Sam told me we'd only leave in about three or four days. Why…"

"_Uncle Sam_?" Lex repeated.

"Sam Lane. Lois' dad. My uncle. Remember?"

Lex grinned. "Yes, of course. But…Wow. That's an…unexpectedly suitable name." Chloe looked blank. Lex told himself to stop ridiculing her family and answer her question instead. "We kind of stirred things up here," he said. "Politically speaking. McCarthy can…wait, you don't know him. McCarthy is…"

"I did meet him," Chloe said. "This morning. At least I think I did, I was still half-asleep. He's the colorless gentleman, right? With the glasses."

"Colorless." Yes, that was McCarthy alright. "Yes. That's him. He's one of my father's men—one of those he 'gave an opportunity'."

"Something tells me you don't like him."

"What? The loathing in my voice?" He sneered. "No, I don't like him. But he's incredibly good at what he does, and that goes a long way gaining my respect."

"What DOES he do?" Chloe asked. "I thought he was an interpreter."

"Oh, he is. He speaks about twelve languages fluently. But his main talent is law. International law. He studied New Sinology and Asian Law, American Law, British Law—there's a big difference, apparently, Criminal Law…you name it. My dad sent him along to smooth out any ruffled political feathers, and it's good that he did, because so far, Brian's been very busy, as far as I understand it. I'm still getting a grip on the situation," he said apologetically. "I've been out of it for a while."

Chloe smirked. "Addiction will do that to you. Christ, Lex. Fu Yang…"

"Will get what's coming to him," Lex finished for her. He stroked a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Don't you worry about him."

"But what he did to you…"

"He'll take longer to convalesce from what I did to him than the other way around," Lex said coldly, then smiled reassuringly as Chloe stared at him. "I've had my revenge," he said. "I just let him get away, that's all. But they'll catch him yet."

"Ok," Chloe said, and relaxed against him. Apparently Clark hadn't told her what his revenge had looked like, or he imagined her reaction would have been different. That was decent of Clark. Well, he knew Clark was a decent guy.

"You're shivering," Chloe said.

"Junkie rock," Lex murmured back. "It'll pass."

She huffed a laugh. "You're so blasé about it."

"I'd howl and start throwing things if that worked better," Lex shrugged. "Maybe later. For now, I'm perfectly alright just sitting here—unless it hurts you when I shiver?"

"Pretty much everything hurts," Chloe said pragmatically. "And if I'm correct it'll be at least another hour before they give me my pills. You sitting next to me shivering or not doesn't make it hurt worse or less. And you're nice and warm." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Lex?"

"Yeah?"

"Clark was right. China sucks."

Lex laughed. "Yeah," he said. "It does, rather, doesn't it?" He thought about the sheaf of papers McCarthy had left him, with neat translations of the scrolls in the temple. A secret just out of his reach. Or maybe not. "Fascinating legends, though," he murmured.

And that, in turn, made Chloe smile again.

TBC

Ok, I apologize for the hoyay! in this chapter. I've tried to tune it down a bit. However, this was another piece I've been wanting to write ever since Blockage. I just love exploring Lex and Clark's weird relationship :)

Next chapter: Lionel, and finally everything becomes clear (hopefully! Where the heck did I leave my notes…)


	21. Chapter 20

Hey all! Looks like I should be grumpy more often : ) Anyway, I found out that there are a few discrepancies in the story concerning the Chinese names. I called Ta's brother in the basement Wei once, and that's not his name—that's the name of the Mayor's brother. Anyway, people probably forgot, hopefully in any case : )

BTW, sorry for the long waiting time. This chapter was pretty darn difficult to write, and I had to reread a lot of stuff to make sure it all fitted. But I hope most things are cleared up. Just a few more chapters now…three, or so. Or four. Or more if I get inspired.

Twenty: The Arrival of the King

Lex returned to the hotel just after Chloe had her dinner to get something for himself. After sitting up for such a long time, the tremors intensified, and Chloe told him it was okay to 'abandon' her and go back to bed. He protested for a good ten minutes, then knocked over the glass he was trying to pick up and admitted defeat.

She wasn't alone for very long, though. Along with her evening pills, Crystal Shanyuang arrived, exclaiming loudly how terrible Chloe looked, and apologizing fervently for not coming by to see her sooner.

"It's okay," Chloe said. "What have you been up to?"

Crystal perched on the edge of the plastic chair, sitting on her hands and looking like a sparrow, or some other quick, black bird. Her dark eyes were shining with excitement. "I've been talking," she said.

"Talking."

"Yes. With our dear miss Zhen and her traitorous little brother, with Feng Lao, and with his wife, and the police—well, one of them, anyway." She winked. "Yesterday evening, I saw Miss Xue Minh, another woman who'd been kept prisoner in the temple. It WAS a temple, did they tell you that? I'm sure they did. You were right. I want to return there, but the police won't let me. Your friend, Mister Kent, he took pictures. I believe he knows another way. Do you think he'd show it to me if I asked?"

"Clark?" Chloe smiled. "Sure."

Crystal grinned. "He's very handsome. And big! I get a crick in my neck when I want to talk to him. But very nice. Verrrry nice."

"Yeah," Chloe said, and was happy to notice that the little quiver of regret no longer occurred, "he is. And I'm sure he'll take you to the temple if you ask him, but…well, he's spoken for."

Crystal sighed, then shrugged. "Of course. All the good men are married, all the handsome men are gay. Or something like that. 'Women', perhaps? Anyway, I've spoken to a lot of people. This evening, your friend Lois—your cousin?—we're going to see a girl whose friend's brother apparently belonged with the Phoenix Gang. Your friend met the girl's mother on Market, and told her to go speak to her." She lifted her weight with her hands, more like a perched bird than ever, then sat down again and placed her hands in her lap. "I'm close," she said. "I mean, I'm really close. I ALMOST know what's going on. I still need to seduce your Mister McCarthy so he'll tell me what's going on at the police station, but I think I'm ALMOST there."

"You mean with the Phoenix Fire and the Temple People and the Phoenix Gang? And Fu Yang?"

"Yes," Crystal said. "And Fu Yang. Though he is…difficult. And the Mayor and his brother, and blood debts to friends. It's…deep. Family feuds made more complicated with gang feuds and ancient legends…"

"Tell me," Chloe begged. "Tell me what you've found out."

"Tomorrow," Crystal promised. "Tomorrow I should know enough to make a plausible theory. I need to talk to this girl and her friend first, and to Mister McCarthy. But tomorrow I'll make presentation and show it to you here."

"A presentation?" Chloe smiled. "You mean like PowerPoint?"

"Yes. With pictures and everything. If I come up with a conspiracy theory, I like to be thorough." Crystal was smiling as well, but even in her joy was a certain manic severity; Chloe did not doubt for one minute that Sherlock Holmes came anywhere near this small Chinese woman's determination to find out the truth. The pang of regret she hadn't felt at the mention of Clark gorgeousness now sliced through her heart that she couldn't do her part of the investigation. It was hard to keep a friendly face with jealousy forming a lump in her throat…But it wasn't Crystal's fault Chloe was bedridden, and at least she was doing her best to involve her somehow.

She swallowed her envy, focused on the more ridiculous of her friend's plans. "Mmm. And how thorough are you going to be seducing Brian McCarthy?"

The other woman grinned widely. "Well…that depends," she said.

"On what?"

"On how cute he is without his glasses. And on whether he's married or not. I think not: no ring, but…well."

Chloe laughed, half shocked, half amused. Her side pulled but the pills were already kicking in and the pain had faded to the familiar dull ache. "You can't be serious."

"Why not? The chance we could ever get a serious relationship is about nil. But he speaks Chinese, he's witty, and I expect he looks great with his hair up in spikes and without those glasses. And his cigarettes are cool. I see great material for a short-term liaison."

"Cigarettes?"

"He wouldn't have smoked inside the hospital." Crystal checked her watch. "His cigarettes are stylish. Now, it is not often that I can praise a man for the cigarettes he smokes, so that adds to his appeal. And your Mister Kent, you say, is unavailable for a short fling. No, I will try my best with Mister McCarthy and try to win his trust so he'll divulge all confidential police investigation to me. Maybe I should get him drunk…"

Chloe wondered to what extent she was serious, about the seduction part at least. Crystal may be a rather unusual specimen of the Chinese people, but she had never struck Chloe as being even vaguely sluttish. Just like Ai-li, Crystal's rebellion had seemed more like a pose, or maybe not as much a pose as a deliberate mannerism, than a character trait.

Then again, if she wants to break free of the rigidity of her life by seducing someone, who am I to judge her?

Then she frowned. Ai-li. "Crystal? That girl you're going to see tonight…is her name Ai-li? Ai-li Lan?"

Crystal's mouth dropped open with surprise. "Lan. Yes! You know her?"

"She's one of the three kids I met who told me about Phoenix Fire."

"What coincidence! Or rather, what a small town."

Chloe smiled. It wasn't such a coincidence, really. In Smallville, everybody had known everybody as well. Every meteor freak was either a class mate or the sister or brother of one. Briefly, she wondered who was taking care of the meteor freaks now she, Clark, Pete and Lana had left the place.

And Lex.

Lex took care of the freaks, too. Even though he was one, himself.

Crystal was still talking, and she pulled herself out of her reveries. "I am meeting your cousin at eight, and then together we'll drive to the Lan residence."

"It's huge," Chloe remembered. "And stuffed with Orchid images."

"Ah," Crystal said with a funny little smile. "That kind of family."

"What do you mean with 'that kind of family'?"

"The kind that doesn't use historical symbolism but is strangled by it. I believe this town is crawling with these people. Like the Fengfei family, too. With their phoenix."

"In what way?"

"Well, the whole Fengfei family has a tattoo of the phoenix on their back. The men one facing to the left, the women one facing to the right. That's how they had the brother take the place of the Mayor: they roughed up his face to make him unrecognizable and then used the tattoo as identification as Fengfei."

Chloe nodded. Yes, if the man's face had been hidden behind bandages…that would make sense. Still… "What about the brother, then? Wouldn't he be missed?"

"Apparently he'd gone under ground some months ago. Left Shueng. But," Crystal interrupted herself, "I really need to investigate further. I just don't have the facts straight yet."

"I can help you figure them out," Chloe suggested hopefully, but Crystal shook her head. She glanced at her watch again.

"I have to leave in a few minutes. Tomorrow, I'll give you all the facts. I'll try to make sense of it all, and you can…no, you MUST help me figure it all out. You and Rex. He needs to help me too. It was your mystery in the first place," she added, and Chloe decided it could very well be she loved this woman.

"I'll keep you to it," she said.

Crystal nodded. "I will keep myself to it, too."

*

"Yo, Smallville. What deep and profound thoughts bounce round and round in that head of yours behind that stern expression?"

"Deep and profound thoughts indeed," Clark returned. "Far too deep and profound to share with you." Lois stuck out her tongue. As a matter of fact Clark was reflecting on the curious fact that Chinese orange juice definitely tasted different than the juice he usually drank in America, but he thought Lois would be happier with a snappy reply instead of the truth. He'd like her to think he was sharp, while in fact his thoughts often were as mundane as could be expected from a country boy. He wondered what they added to either the oranges or the juice to make them taste this different.

They were just finishing breakfast, again gathered in the dining room of the hotel with all the soldiers, the Sparkling Sources group and Shanyuang's body guards as if they were all in boarding school. The only ones missing were Lex, who'd said he'd already had breakfast when he woke up two hours ago, and McCarthy. Crystal had asked him if he'd seen Brian, but he hadn't. The General didn't know where he was either, but apparently Brian had left him a message that he'd be absent for breakfast, so he hadn't been kidnapped and shouldn't start worrying unless he hadn't returned by twelve.

Clark didn't care much what he was up to, although he was intrigued by the man's mystery. Whether it was yet another of his 'alien quirks', or just a good insight in human nature, he was usually pretty good at reading people. Apart from the Luthors, of course. His quirk had been off, when he'd decided that Lionel was decent and Lex was harmless. The thing was, when he liked people, they were usually worth liking, and when he didn't, they were usually worth finding objectionable. And he'd liked McCarthy. Didn't trust him, but he did like him. That alone was enough to make him interesting. Clark wasn't used to being wrong anymore. Well, not about his people perception.

_There he'll be, _he thought, as the swing doors opened—but they didn't open they way McCarthy opened them. McCarthy was the kind of man who gently pushed one of the doors open and slipped in, guiding the door back into place so it wouldn't swing. This time, both doors were forcibly pushed open, all the way open, and striding in on silent shoes but with body language that was doing a good job of replacing seven heralds with trumpets…was Lionel Luthor.

He didn't make a sound, apart from the whoosh of the doors, but everybody in the room, including the few guests that weren't part of either the Sparkling Sources group or the American delegation, looked up and stared as Lionel Luthor marched through the room, hair, trousers and jacket flapping, and came to a standstill in front of General Lane. Brian McCarthy quietly slid into the room, all but hidden in the bombast of Lionel's arrival.

_Well. He certainly knows how to make an entrance, _Clark thought wryly.

The General agreed, by the stunned look on his face. It lasted for less than a second, but for a moment he looked dumbfounded and rather stupid as he followed Lionel's progress with a piece of ham dangling from his fork just an inch from his mouth.

"General!" Lionel said. "No, no, don't get up." Clark hadn't noticed the General making even the slightest move to stand, but when Lionel said it, he automatically sat up straight and pushed his chair back, then remained seated as he caught himself. He shook Lionel's hand across the table.

"Mister Luthor. I wasn't aware you'd be arriving today. I thought…"

"Yes, well…" Lionel smiled, waved a dismissive hand. "My business in Shanghai was concluded sooner than I had expected, so I was able to depart ten hours before schedule. Brian," another wave that, no matter how vague, still managed to point at the exact place McCarthy was standing, "picked me up."

With Lionel in his face it was hard for Lane to glower at McCarthy without glowering at Lionel at the same time, but his brow furrowed, and he said, "With all due respect, Mister Luthor, you should have informed me. It isn't safe. We can't be sure we've captured all of the gang who kidnapped your son and my niece."

"I doubt the last scattered handful will retaliate by abducting the next American to enter their town," Lionel said indifferently. "Not after what happened the last time, don't you agree, General?"

"Desperate men may take desperate action," Lane said stubbornly.

Lionel refused to let him have the last word. "Be that as it may, I am here now." He cast his eye round the room, noticing and nodding at Clark and, with a small wink that made her bristle, Lois, before focusing on the General again. "I had expected to see my son here. Where is Lex?"

"In this room, I suppose," Lane replied. "I believe he said he had some business to attend to."

"I see." Lionel nodded sharply. "What room is he in?"

"251."

"Guarded?"

"No longer. I confiscated the extra key, though. I can…"

"I'll knock," Lionel said. "Thank you. I'm looking forward to speaking with you later." He turned on his heel and briskly walked out again, leaving the other Americans in a mild state of shock.

McCarthy came sauntering over with a plate containing a French roll, butter, and jam, and picked out an empty chair two seats away from Clark's. General Lane's foul look passed over him like a breeze over a marble statue.

"So this was your 'business', huh?" he rumbled. "I thought you were expected at the police office."

"No, I wasn't," McCarthy said, buttering his roll. "I was picking up my employer." He added jam. A small smile broadened his mouth just before he took a bite. Clark noticed his hair wasn't combed and gelled back as usual; as he bowed over his plate it fell over his forehead, lending him a somewhat casual, even rakish look, in a bookish kind of way. "Although I must confess I made no effort dissuading you from that thought. I will visit the police station later this morning."

Sam Lane sputtered a bit more before deciding he was making a fool of himself, and finished off his breakfast as if it had hurt him and deserved capital punishment. He and his men left shortly afterwards, not glancing back at the useless civilians.

Lois sighed, and fetched herself another cup of coffee. She had never been a morning person, but now she was on an even slower burn. Been busy, yesterday, Clark gathered. It had been over twelve before he'd heard her come in. She sipped the dark brew with mechanical greed. It wasn't a caramel macchiato, but it would have to do. Chinese coffee, Clark thought, tasted a whole lot better than their orange juice. He went to get himself a third cup as well. He had no clue whether his metabolism actually reacted to caffeine, but at least he'd look like an ordinary reporter if he drank it.

Crystal Shanyuang drifted over to their table as her group left the dining room, halting briefly at McCarthy's chair to speak to him. He said something back, nodding, and she flashed him a smile. He returned that smile with a secretive little grin of his own, and Lois murmured, "Oh my god, she HAS been sexing him up."

"Huh, what?"

She sipped her coffee, eyes still half-closed. "Those two. Banging. It's obvious."

"In what way is that obvious?"

Crystal had moved on and now approached Lois' chair. McCarthy went on with his roll. He didn't look particularly radiant, or guilty, or anything Clark always associated with having sex. Neither, he thought, did Crystal. With the exception of McCarthy's hair, they looked exactly like they always did. Whenever he overcame his fear of crushing Lana and got some, Lois and Chloe both noticed within ten seconds, and the first never failed to raise her eyebrows in some kind of knowing way.

She raised them now, at him, though, not Crystal, and stared at him as if he were retarded. Then she turned back and said hello to Crystal.

"Hi," Crystal returned, and dropped down on the seat next to her. She picked up one of the unused paper napkins and started folding it with quick, slender fingers, looking Lois in the eye while she did so. "It worked. I'm getting the last facts at, oh, two, I think. For confirmation. So, I should think we can start the presentation at three at the hospital."

Lois grinned. "Presentation, huh? So you really went along with the PowerPoint and all?"

"Yes." She glanced at her napkin. Turned it around and pulled at one of the folds.

"What about this Zhen guy?"

"He definitely was the one to pass on our maps and charts."

"And Fu Yang?"

"None of the other Temple People has mentioned him. So far, the kid's the only one who recognized him."

"Uh," Clark interjected, "what are you two talking about?"

"Woman talk," Lois said dismissively. "You'll find out this afternoon. You're invited too, at three at the hospital. Chloe's room."

"Yes," Crystal nodded. "And Rex, too. That man, was that his father? He can come as well, if he wants to." She carefully pulled at two corners of her folded napkin. To Clark's surprise, the wad of paper turned into a near perfect origami crane. "I'll need a beamer. And a white screen, or something. I have one at the lab, but I'm not sure I'll have the time to put it up."

"I'll take care of it," Lois said, with a sideways glance at Clark that told him he'd be the one to pick it up.

"Yeah," he sighed. Sure, keep him out but use him as a pack mule. "Sure."

Lois smiled at him. "Three o' clock?" she repeated.

Crystal nodded. "Yes. I need to speak to Han one more time, and show him Fu Yang's picture—I found another one. Huarang had taken pictures that evening we had the reception. And Mister McCarthy promised me to help me with one of the Temple People. So," she got up, dropping the duck on an empty plate, "I have a busy day in front of me."

"Call me if you need help," Lois said.

"I will. See you at the hospital. You to, Clark." She pronounced his name as 'Klaak'.

Now it was Clark's turn to raise eyebrows, but Lois ignored him. "What was that about?"

"Vengeance, boredom, and frustration," Lois said. She finished her coffee, fished a package of cigarettes out of her back pocket. It was empty. "And one hell of a detective, I must say. We should recruit her for the Planet. Of course I'd do just as well if I'd only spoken the language…" She crumpled the package to a ball, leaned over and said, "Brian? Can I please, please borrow one of your cigarettes? I'm all out."

Without a word, McCarthy slid his silver holder over the table. Lois took out one cigarette, clicked the holder closed, and slid it back. It bumped against the side of his hand and he tucked it back into his breast pocket blindly. "Thanks. Come on," she said to Clark, "let's go get that beamer, shall we? Might just as well take care of that now."

"Uh, yeah, I guess so." Still clueless, he followed yet another independent woman out of the door, wondering when exactly he'd turned into the flunky instead of the leading man.

*

Lex heaved a deep sigh as someone knocked on his door. It was a sharp knock, or rather three sharp knocks, delivered with two knuckles, not with fingers. Lois never knocked at his door, not ever. Clark's sounded different. And both the staff and the Sparkling Sources people had this scratching kind of knock. The General, then, or one of his overly masculine commandos.

Great.

Well, he was showered and dressed, even if he still curled up on the bed with his laptop or Brian's translations whenever he wanted to work. He was still tired all the time. Visiting Chloe yesterday had positively worn him out, unexciting as it had been. He really didn't feel like talking to Lane at the moment.

Lane, however, was insistent. The knock sounded again, sharper than ever.

Lex sighed again. "Coming," he said, slid out of bed and opened the door.

Two cool eyes studied him from a narrow face framed in graying beard and graying hair. "Hello, Lex."

Lex felt his jaw drop, and hastily pulled it up again. "_Dad_?"

The first thing he thought was _What the fuck is HE doing here???_ The second was, _God, what am I wearing?_

Lex had conversed with Lionel Luthor—who also happened to be his father, but who was, mainly, Lionel Luthor of the Luthor emporium—in various degrees of dress and undress; from tux to leather to ripped jeans to absolutely nothing at all, and he had concluded long ago that it was far preferable to face down Lionel Luthor covered from head to toe in Armani—the businessman's armor—than in damp t-shirts, ratty sweat pants or boxer shorts. (The last time that had happened _incidentally_ had been about ten years ago, when he'd tottered through the hallways of his father's house high as a kite in the early hours of the morning. Up to this day he did not know what had happened to his clothes. The last time it had happened _on purpose_ was four years ago, when he'd made a habit of walking around the Smallville Mansion naked to test whether dear old dad really was as blind as he claimed he was.)

Thankfully, the slacks he was wearing were only slightly rumpled, and while he knew the black sweater he was wearing made him look pallid and thin, it was clean and recently ironed by the dedicated hotel laundry staff. He wasn't wearing shoes, but no one could fault him for taking off his shoes in his own room.

Lionel studied him with his radar eye. Strange, as the laser-like glance passed over him, Lex felt the almost-faded scars of Fu Yang's name start to hurt again, as if Lionel had somehow reactivated them. He rubbed them through the fabric of his sweater, looked away from that piercing gaze.

"Why don't you come in? I didn't know you were here."

"I only arrived half an hour ago." Lionel strolled in, leaned against the table and took in the disheveled sheets on the bed. He looked back to Lex, who positioned himself against the closed door with his hands tucked nonchalantly into his pockets. "If you'd called me to tell me you were all right, I would have told you that I happened to be in the neighborhood and was planning to stop by."

"You were 'in the neighborhood'," Lex drawled. "In China. You just happened to be close to Shueng."

"A few hours' flight away. But yes, I was in China. Business continues, Lex, even when you let yourself get taken and…" He stopped, unclenched his fingers from their grip on the edge of the table. "Why didn't you?" he asked. "Call me."

"I assumed Brian had already reported to you," Lex said insubordinately.

"He did. His account was rather disturbing, and sadly incomplete. Drugs, torture, obsession…but no cause, no reasons, and no answers to my questions. I understand both you and Miss Sullivan were injured in the process?"

"Chloe wasn't tortured," Lex said, before Lionel could tell him it really wasn't done to take a girl on holiday and then let her get hurt by the nearest nutcase. "Fortunately. But yes, she was hurt when she tried to escape her kidnappers. But the doctors have good hopes she'll recover completely. Of course, I'll have the best doctors at LuthorCare have a…"

"Miss Sullivan's misfortunes, as regrettable as they are, are of no interest to me at the moment," Lionel interrupted him. "Yours are." His face softened, as did his voice. "You're a wreck, Lex."

Lex's chin reared up like a horse's; he totally agreed his condition was miserable, but nothing got his spikes up like Lionel remarking on his weakness. "I'll be fine in a few days. Really, Dad, it's too early to think about planning a coup. I've already read up on all the…"

"I wasn't referring to your ability to lead LuthorCorp," Lionel said, actually sounding scandalized. He took a quick step forward and gripped Lex by the shoulders. "Good god, Son, do you have ANY idea how much you scared me with that phone conversation you had Kent record? And why HIM? Why didn't you call _me_?"

That, Lex reflected, was actually a very good question, coming from Lionel. He was surprised no one had asked it before. His reply came practiced and smoothly: "It was dark, and I was on the run. I selected the first number that popped up in my phonebook. It happened to be Clark's."

"I see," Lionel said, cynical and—could it be?—somewhat hurt, but already half-convinced. "K comes before L."

"C comes before D," Lex corrected. He rather wished he could step away from Lionel's kneading fingers, but the door was at his back and he was neatly trapped. "Besides, I didn't program your number into my Chinese phone. I know it by heart. At the time…I had more pressing things on my mind."

Lionel refrained from asking why on earth he had Clark's number programmed into his Chinese phone. Lex congratulated himself on a lie well-performed. He steeled himself for another round of assessment. Those fingers had to feel the tremors that still passed through him occasionally; he himself could feel them very clearly. By the look on Lionel's face, he could as well.

He relaxed his grip, patted Lex's shoulders and released him, taking a step away, back to the table. "The man who did this to you," he said. "Is it true he was not apprehended?"

"No," Lex said. "The police did not get him."

Lionel nodded. "But you did."

"Yes. Unfortunately he got away again. He must have had help."

"He could not have escaped on his own?"

Lex smiled thinly. "No."

"Good. We will find him."

"You have men here, as well?" Despite it all, Lex was impressed.

Lionel's teeth flashed. "Not here. But I will have them get here. Brian's already working on it. What are we looking for? Brian's description, as I said, was…inconclusive."

Lex drew his finger in a double L across his left cheek. "I cut him, like so. He will have multiple slash wounds on his torso as well, and damaged hands. His face and fingers will most likely give him away. Those cuts were quite deep. And he lost at least one finger."

Another short nod. "Good. I will pass it on. Any other striking characteristics?"

Lex shrugged. "He's Asian. Black hair and brown slanted eyes. Average build. Average height. The only thing that is striking about him is that he is so very common-looking. A bit like Brian. No notable moles, freckles or other things. With different clothes and different hair, he could be anyone." His mouth twisted again. "Not so much anymore, with scarring like that."

Lionel answered his grim smile. "No. Well, it should make him easy to recognize." He looked Lex up and down again. "You're shaking. Not constantly, but you are shaking."

Lex pressed his lips more firmly together. Of course, a particularly intense shiver chose to run through him at that moment; he cursed inwardly.

"Is this the effect of the drug you were subjected to?"

"I believe so. I was never prone to convulsive shivers before."

"Lex. Will this be permanent?"

"No." He had no clue whether it was permanent, whether he had nerve damage, or brain damage, or whatever other possible damage. He was, however, resolved he would be completely recovered before he returned to Kansas. "It'll fade. It was a lot worse when I was…when I was going through withdrawal. I'll be right as rain in a week or so."

"This is the general medical opinion?"

"Yes." Brian would have told Lionel Lex refused to see doctors. Lex didn't give a damn. It wasn't a medical opinion. Opinions could be proven wrong. He was talking about facts, here. The shivers would be gone within a week. If not, he'd just start doing cocaine again, and kick that habit when that addiction overrode his Phoenix Fire dependence.

"I see," Lionel said.

Lex hoped he wasn't seeing nice young men in clean white coats—but he'd hardly have Lex locked up here in China. Was that fatherly concern he detected in his father's face? Huh. Perhaps it was Lionel who was ripe for the loony bin this time. Again. Insanity ran in the family. Hell, at times it ran thicker than blood if he were considering cultivating a cocaine habit just to get rid of an annoying shiver.

He rubbed his forehead and sighed. Lionel looked away, leaned against the table again.

"Lex?"

"What?"

"Tell me the truth. Will you be alright? Not to rule LuthorCorp, to work, not even right now. I know you aren't…well…now. Just…Tell me."

Their eyes met at the same moment. Lex's mouth quirked up in the bitter lopsided smile he'd tried to lose for ages. "Oh yes," he said. "I will be fine. Don't you worry, Dad. Like I said, I'll be right as rain."

*

It was three o' clock. Chloe was strongly reminded of her fifth birthday, the last birthday she'd spent in Metropolis as a child before moving to Smallville. She had badly strained her ankle the day before, and had spent her birthday lying on the couch, with all the visitors crowding around her as if she were a princess awaiting prince Charming's kiss.

She even felt the same anticipation she'd had as a child; when you still got Barbies and My Little Ponies, things you could unwrap, take out of their box, brush, undress and comb, presents were exciting. Books were nice, but as an adult, presents were a heck of a lot less of a surprise.

Well, apart from Lex's presents. They could be anything, including genuine Egyptian artifacts AND fresh chocolate chip cookies.

Right across from her bed a huge screen covered the painting on the wall; the beamer was on her lap. Crystal was standing next to the screen, Lois beside her with a laptop balanced on her knees. Lex, McCarthy, Lionel—LIONEL????—and her uncle sat on one side of her bed, Shanyuang and his men sat on the other side. The soldiers were spread about the room, one in the doorway, blocking the way to any curious outsiders.

Chloe felt as if she should be munching popcorn. The General was sucking on an unlit cigar stub. Lois was chewing gum.

"Can someone turn off the light, please?" Crystal asked, and the show began.

*

"I have put the following story together from evidence found at the scene, conversations I've had with the various victims of the Temple People, and with these I mean abductees, and statements made by the Temple People, with a few who called themselves the Phoenix Gang, and with several other people whose names are not important or will come up later.

'It's complicated," she warned. "I'm telling you in advance, it's complicated. So please feel free to ask me to elaborate if you can't follow me."

Her grandfather said something in Chinese, and his men smiled. Crystal laughed. "Well, I'll do my best," she replied in English. She slapped a thin, twig-like pointer against her leg. As she began to speak, McCarthy translated her words in an undertone to the Sparkling Sources people.

"For chronology's sake, I will start two years ago. Two men, both Shueng-born veterans from a war I wasn't even aware of happening, found the passage to the underground temple in the middle of the square, and so the temple and the scrolls in the temple." She nodded at Lois, and two pictures appeared on screen.

'These two men were Chen Hao and Fengfei Wei." Crystal said, tapping either of them with her rotan stick. "We've never met Chen—he's locked up at the police station—, but Fengfei Wei is the man we have come to know as Shueng's Mayor, but who is actually the original Mayor's brother. Now, as far as I know, Wei had some reason, some drug-related reason, to not want to be seen in Shueng. His brother was the town's Mayor, and he wasn't happy with his no-good little brother.

'Enough about that. Chen and Fengfei Wei found the scrolls in the temple; scrolls that contained a description about the creation of a drug that caused berserker madness, severe hallucinations and eventually death in those who took it. for some reason these two men thought that it might be lucrative to try and reproduce this drug, even though the recipe was faulty. I think," she added, nodding at Lex, "that Fu Yang must have helped them create it. As the creative force, I mean."

"Chen Hao is not Fu Yang?" Lex asked, frowning. "I thought he might be. He mentioned fighting in a war…"

She shook her head. "No. Chen Hao is sixty-four years old. He must have been quite old to fight in that battle—it was more of a guerrilla fight than a real battle. An uprising, I found it in a history book. I can show you later. It was in 1995, on the other side of the mountain range…Anyway. _Fèng__huáng__huǒ__. _Phoenix Fire."

The pictures Clark had taken of the scrolls flashed by as she continued her account. "Even though they had no means to create the original drug—oh, Lois, can you go back one…thanks. Here you see that this scroll is damaged. It misses almost a foot from the lower half of the paper—the remains of the recipe did give them the basic ingredients. The most important of those ingredients was the purple flower that grows on the mountain sides facing the south. Not all of those flowers were suitable for their purpose. They needed to possess specific elements. For instance, only the male flowers could be used to make this drug."

Chloe smiled. Male flowers. She imagined a field of purple flowers with tiny penises jutting out.

Crystal waved her hand. "There are a lot of conditions that should be met, apparently. I know very little of the actual creation process."

From the corner of her eye, Chloe saw Clark nod and smile. Lex had noticed as well: he glanced from Crystal to Clark, and a considering expression pursed his mouth.

"What is important," Crystal continued, "is that at one point, they did create a drug that made people hallucinate and give them energy. It did not make them hyper-violent or even aggressive, but it did boost their adrenaline levels to dangerously high levels. They did not test it out on themselves. What I believe happened, and which is supported by the account of a seventeen-year-old boy named Li Yong Hai. He has been a member of the Phoenix Gang for several months, and, I believe, one of the earliest users of the drug."

"Ta's brother?" Chloe asked.

"Yes." The picture changed, showing the tattoo of a phoenix on a skinny male upper arm. "And the good thing is, he identified Fu Yang."

Lex sat up straight. "He did?"

Crystal nodded smugly. "Yes, he did. I showed him a picture of Fu Yang this morning, and he recognized him as the man who gave him the Fire. Only when he distributed drugs, he wore different clothes and had a small beard, here," she drew her finger down right below her lower lip, "and two moles on his cheek, here. At first he didn't recognize him. But then I accidentally dropped a biscuit on top of it, obscuring the top of his head and scattering crumbs over his face, and then he said it was Fu Yang. Well, he knew him under a different name." She shrugged. "Lung."

"'Dragon,'" Chloe muttered, and grinned when Lex shot her a surprised look. "Hey, I DO pick up the language, you know."

"Fu Yang must have been a friend to Fengfei Wei," Crystal said. "He and Wei founded _Fèng__hēi__bāng_, the Phoenix Gang. I'm not sure whether Wei or Chen Hoa was the instigator, but I believe it to have been Wei. Also because of the name of the drug, and of the gang. I think the basics of the gang already existed before they became the Phoenix Gang. But Fu Yang made it…official. With tattoos, like this one. Imagery is very important in this town. There are a few rich families: the Fengfeis, the Lans, the Kohans…they have put their symbols on the entire town. Names are important. Even if you were a nobody, you could become someone if you joined the Phoenix Gang."

"But," she clicked on to a piece of Chinese newspaper, "the drug was lethal. And one day one of Chen Hoa's two sons died of a heart attack after taking it. This newspaper reports of his death. As you can see, it is but a small article, and very simple: 年轻人在神奇情况死. 'Young man dies in mysterious circumstances'. No mention of the drug; the only reason it's more than an obituary is because he got a heart attack at the age of 27. At this point, Chen Hoa no longer wanted the Phoenix Fire to be created.

'At the same time, negotiations for your Glass factory and our pipelines started." Another nod at Lex. "Mayor Fengfei was very much interested in such a factory, because he was an ambitious man and wanted to make his town more attractive.

'On the one hand, Fengfei Wei and Fu Yang must have wanted the factory as well, because it would bring them more buyers for their drug. They must have improved it over time, because there were very few mentions of heart attacks. On the other hand…" Another five, six Chinese newspaper clippings sailed across the screen, "there were several drownings, two car crashes, and a few strange, lethal accidents in which young people found an early death, and guess what, four of those six had crushed and unrecognizable right upper arms."

"The Phoenix tattoos were on the right upper arm," Lois interjected for the slow of mind. Lionel sneered at her. She pointedly looked away.

"Hidden heart attacks?" Crystal asked. "Or youths high on _Fèng__huáng__huǒ_crashing to death? They aren't so keen on autopsies in this town. They prefer to keep things quiet and easy. Or maybe Fengfei kept it out of the papers, I don't know. In any case Wei and Fu Yang maintained the Phoenix Gang, and they were happy to welcome the factory. Just like the Mayor.

'According to the statements of several of the Temple People, the Temple faction then split into two. One followed Chen Hao, who was still interested in creating Phoenix Fire, but who didn't want to use it before it was perfected, or something like that, I can't be sure because no one will say what they were really doing down there; and the others followed Fengfei Wei and Fu Yang. The Temple People and the Phoenix Gang became two opposing forces.

'When Mayor Fengfei wouldn't listen to 'reason', and held on to his plans for the factory, the Temple People wanted to scare him off by tampering with his brakes. Something went wrong, and he and his wife crashed and died in the mountains. Chen Hao either was appalled by what he and his people had caused and stood back from that point on, or was taken out by Fengfei Wei, for killing his brother."

"Taken out?" Clark asked. "You mean dead?"

"No, he's alive. He kind of retired after the crash," Crystal amended. "Stepped back. I'll return to him later.

'Wei took the place of his brother as the Mayor of Shueng, which he could do because of the tattoo on his back. Everyone thought he was the original Mayor. His face was damaged, and he wore a bandage for many weeks after the crash to hide his facial differences, and kept to his house because he was 'mourning his wife's death'.

'Taking the job of the Mayor, Wei also gained access to all of our, and your, Rex, papers. He thought everything would be wonderful. Our people came here, once, to measure and take samples. The first stages of planning were carried out.

'Then, the Temple People started protesting in earnest, and they and the Phoenix Gang came to a real clash. One person died, and that person was Chen Hoa's second son." A young man's picture appeared. "It was at this point, well, one week later, that we arrived here."

Clark whistled. Lex snorted. "And I thought it was such a peaceful little town."

"We all did," Crystal said. "And it was. After that one fight, many of the Phoenix Gang members, especially the young ones, abandoned the gang. Or," she grinned, "were pulled out by the ears by their mothers and locked down in the basement. It was kept out of the media especially because of our arrival. Fengfei wanted us to think Shueng was just a sleepy little town without any potential for shenananins."

"Shenanigans," McCarthy whispered. Crystal shrugged.

"We arrived," she stated, "in the middle of a war that no one knew about because it had always been kept quiet. We only met one side of the fighters, and were never introduced to the other side. By this time Chen Hao must have become convinced that the whole Phoenix Fire revival plan was cursed, and wanted to get us out as soon as possible. With both his sons dead because of the _Fèng__huáng__huǒ_, he had nothing left to lose. He tried to take over the town by blackmailing those who welcomed the factory. For that purpose, he kidnapped several people, forcing their family to act as spies and accomplices by threatening to use the Fire on their loved ones."

"But what," Lionel asked, "Do you, or Lex, have to do with this all? Why attack you?"

"Because our lovely aide from Shueng, the young Mister Zhen, who also happens to be part of the Phoenix Gang, stole one of our charts and found out that our pipelines would ruin the biggest patch of usable purple flowers. Chen Hao either didn't know that it would, or was fine with it. I think he didn't know, because if he'd known we'd destroy most of the flowers, thereby destroying the main ingredient for the drug, he'd have helped us, not stopped us. Then again…no, I'll get to that later."

Her screen went blank. "This is complicated," she said apologetically. "But I'll try to explain it as best as I can. Fu Yang acted, must have acted, as two different persons in both the Temple and the Phoenix Gang. I have NO idea what it was he wanted to achieve personally. Maybe he thrived on his own secrecy. I don't know.

'The temple people tried to stop us. The Fengfei group first wanted us to build the factory, then, when they found out we'd destroy their flower fields, they wanted us gone. But because they were still fighting amongst one another, neither of them acted overtly against us. Perhaps Fengfei still hoped he could change our plans.

'In the end, Fu Yang forced their hand by killing James Wong. He led the Temple People at that time. Or, perhaps, Phoenix Gang people dressed up like Temple People. I really wouldn't know, and according to Br-Mister McCarthy, neither do the Temple People. That is to say, the Phoenix Gang accuses the Temple people and vice versa. After James' murder, the Temple People had no other choice but to kidnap those who were present to keep it all from blowing up."

_Huh_, Chloe thought, and stroked the bandage over her side. _I was kidnapped, locked up, and pierced like a pin-cushion by accident. Isn't that briljant?_

Crystal turned to Lex. "Why Fu Yang took you, however…"

"He was a psychopath," Lex said calmly, as if that explained everything. Lane and some of his soldiers shrugged, as if they could well understand why someone would want to take Lex and experiment on him. "Maybe he was preparing for the Western market."

Chloe winced, and studied Lex from the corner of her eye. Cool as a pudding. Mouth curling as if he were amused and interested. She could see every freckle on his face, and his hands were trembling. He wasn't cool, he wasn't amused, and his interest in Fu Yang was nothing short of murderous. He hadn't told her everything, she was convinced of it.

Lionel spoke up, his precise, drawling voice lending his word a sarcastic quality. "So, if I summarize your account, it comes down to the following. About two years ago, two men discovered an incomplete, ancient, myth-based formula for a lethal drug, decided that it would be a good idea to bring it on the market, then fought, killed, and dragged us all down into their private little war? And to _stop_ this war, one of the men, who saw both his two sons die _because_ of this drug, blackmailed the people he wanted to save from the ravages _of_ the drug, by threatening to expose their loved ones _to_ this drug."

Crystal was undaunted. "Yes," she said. "That's about it."

"Huh."

"And this Chen Hao figure?" Chloe asked. "You said they arrested him as well?"

"Yes," Brian McCarthy spoke up from his corner. "He is the one who told us, well, the police, about his background with Fengfei Wei."

"Does he know anything about Fu Yang?" asked Lex.

"If he does, he refuses to speak about him. The name means nothing to him, or so he says."

"Apparently, neither does the nickname 'Lung'," Crystal added.

"God_damn_ it," Lex grated out, and for a moment his mask of collected calm cracked and showed a boiling fury that made both Lionel and Chloe stare at him in alarm. He shivered—then noticed the looks from either side, crossed his arms over his chest and smiled reassuringly. "The secrecy of these people is really getting on my nerves," he drawled.

"I'm sorry," Crystal said. "This is all I've managed to find out—with the help of Mister McCarthy, and a friendly policeman at the station."

"It's quite a lot," Chloe said. "Well done, you! And you, Lois. Good work. Very impressive."

The Chinese murmured something grateful as well, conversing softly with one another and with McCarthy, who was probably translating things again.

"I didn't do dicksquat," Lois said, and ignored her father's scowl. "I just lent Crystal my USB recorder and distracted parents when they needed distracting. And I petted a lot of ponies. I didn't understand a single word people said; I've never felt so useless in my entire life. Happy to help, don't get me wrong, but useless as fuck."

Clark smiled and nudged her shoulder. "I'm sure you were an invaluable help."

"She was," Crystal said earnestly. "And so was Mister McCarthy."

Brian, Chloe noticed, didn't look away from the other Chinamen, but his mouth turned up at one corner. Her own head was spinning with all the information. There was, however, one question that occupied her mind. It had nothing whatsoever to do with either the Temple People, the Phoenix Gang, or Fu Yang. It was a selfish question, and she hesitated for several minutes before asking it anyway. She was the only one here in a hospital bed; she was allowed to be selfish.

"So…now everyone but Fu Yang is apprehended and the guilty parties have been identified…when can we go home?"

The chattering fell silent.

"Soon," McCarthy said. "Maybe tomorrow."

"We are lequired to testify," Mister Hua said.

"As soon as we're cleared to go we're moving out," the General said.

Lex just looked at her. And she wondered if she heard him correctly when he whispered, almost inaudible because of the answers of Clark, Lois and Crystal, "I need to find him, first."

TBC


	22. Chapter 21

Sorry for the long pause. I can't seem to write quickly at the moment. For some reason this chapter's rather melodramatic and poetic. At least I think so :) Everyone returns home. And Clark and Lex are being sweet together. FRIENDSHIP style! Things aren't completely finished yet, but they're getting there.

Um, I do have at least two more chapters to go, though :P

Twenty-one: Goodbye is such sweet sorrow

Exactly seven days after the rescue team had flown in, the entire American delegation was literally booted out of the country. Lex didn't want to go, not with Fu Yang still out there, but he had no choice in the matter. They had officially worn out their welcome and the Chinese government made it clear that they had not only cleared them for take-off, but couldn't wait to see them gone.

Everyone had been interviewed and heard; the witnesses had been taped and filmed for court evidence, and if any more things came up, a cardboard-faced official said, they could be handled through streaming video as well.

Lex had made his statement, both in Chinese and in English, shooting annoyed glances at the translator that kept muttering 'translations' of Lex's perfect Chinese into his recorder. He omitted any mention of being cut open. He would have liked to include it in the list of physical affronts committed against him, but decided against it for the simple reason that there wasn't any evidence left. Apart from the faded pink lines on his belly that made up the characters of Fu Yang's name, all his wounds had healed. He refused a blood test. It wasn't as if he wanted anyone ELSE aware of his unusual healing factor. Luckily the Chinese seemed to regard DNA tests and blood work evidence as distasteful, and didn't press him.

Mister Shanyuang and his people were politely requested to leave Shueng as well, and just as politely refused, saying they would see it as a personal insult if they were kicked out without a proper apology and in-depth research into the whole mess. They got their official apology, a promise that they would be approached the moment the court case would start, and then the same card-board-faced individual gently urged them to leave.

Since he had a business to run, Shanyuang complied, under protest. He bade Lex and Chloe a warm goodbye, and thanked General Lane and McCarthy with a firm handshake. Crystal hugged both Lex and Chloe, had her hand kissed by McCarthy, whom she graced with a knowing smile, winked conspiratorially at Clark, gave Lois a handful of origami animals and left with a wave and the promise that she would be in touch. She actually sounded like she meant it. The rest of the Sparkling Sources people went more quietly, with nods and half-bows.

Lionel left two days after his abrupt arrival, (even before they received not only the green light to leave but the express order to) claiming he didn't have time to hang around and watch the law function. As he announced his departure, Lex felt a strange pang of abandonment.

"You only just got here," he said.

Lionel nodded. "Yes, well. Some of us have to watch the family business to keep it from going down the drain, haven't we?" But his tone lacked disdain, and the squeeze of his fingers in Lex's shoulder ended in what could almost be qualified as a caress. "I'll pick you up when you return to Metropolis—you and Miss Sullivan. Fly safe, Lex."

"God, think of the jetlag," Chloe said, aghast, when she heard he was leaving. Lois shook her head. "Think of the POLLUTION! With this little trip alone Lionel's added a hundred foot to the hole in the ozone layer. It's a disgrace; he's all alone in that plane. What a waste of kerosene."

At that point Lex had got up and left the room for coffee, because if he hadn't, he'd have done a roundhouse and kicked her straight through the window. At another time, he might have thought of a clever, scathing way to point out her hypocrisy to her, and perhaps explain how solo flights were NECESSARY for multinational CEOs, and more important than her much-lamented ozone layer. If he'd been feeling particularly patient, he might even have told her about the six or seven programs LuthorCorp and LeXCorp had running to _improve_ the environment—but he wasn't feeling patient, and he didn't feel like playing with her.

Playing with someone he owed a life-debt made him edgy. He wondered if Lois understood the power she could exercise over him if she chose. Somehow, he doubted it. And while he was honor-bound to repay that debt, he did not consider himself honor-bound to tell her the exact nature of the favor she'd won when she got him off that slab in Fengfei's basement.

He'd never thought about it before now, but he definitely did make sacrifices in order to be with Chloe. So far, Chloe had seemed to be the only one giving up things to be with him; her privacy, for one, her happy little life and her general safety. Now he knew better. Tolerating Lois Lane was a damn big sacrifice in his opinion. So was Lois' father's, whom he caught once chatting with his niece and asking her whether she was certain her relationship with Mister Luthor Junior was such a good idea.

Then again, hearing Chloe say "Yes, I think it's an EXCELLENT idea, really!" made up for that.

The only one who was allowed to stay was Brian McCarthy. He'd waved his titles and acquaintances like a badge, and for some reason the Chinese government either couldn't kick him out, or was ok with him staying.

Lex's ego suffered under this unfair treatment. If he weren't convinced it wouldn't get him anywhere, he'd have thrown a huge tantrum, Luthor Style, complete with blackmail of the necessary persons, random threats and a lot of icy glaring. However, kicking and screaming wouldn't help, and so he packed his bags along with everybody else.

*

Six days after his last injection, with the tremors all but died down, and only the mildest craving for another dose easily suppressed by two inches of whiskey and a cigarette, he stood in the sleet, just as he'd arrived, and stared at his elegant plane about fifty foot away. General Lane's plane was parked not far away. They would leave as soon as Lex's plane was airborne. The soldiers were already filing in, as organized and obedient as their tin toy counterparts. They'd fly straight to command, not Metropolis. Lex was certain General Lane was as happy not to have to see Lex's face again just after landing as Lex was not to see Lane's.

"I'll find him for you," Brian said, brushing his shoulder with his hand. "And when I do, I'll let you know immediately. Fengfei already admitted he had an accomplice, and he showed reaction when we showed him Fu Yang's photoshopped picture. He'll give in, if he knows what's good for him. And I won't leave before we've got him."

Lex nodded, silent. He wondered if Fu Yang had ensconced himself in the cargo hold. Not likely. Not with the kind of wounds Lex had given him. Unless, of course, that hadn't been Fu Yang at all. _Let's not think about that, shall we? _he reprimanded himself as he flung his finished stub into the snow and walked over to the ambulance that had transported Chloe. _Have some faith in yourself. You wouldn't have attacked him if you hadn't been sure it was him._ Pushing his nagging doubts away, he looked at Chloe's still form on the stretcher.

She was asleep, and showed no sign of waking despite the snow flakes drifting into her face. Lois hastily unfolded an umbrella to shield her. The doctor, some stern-looking woman who about came to his navel, had recommended Chloe be put under for most of the journey. Twenty hours on a plane were no fun when plagued only by travel-weariness and boredom, but they were downright hell when you weren't able to walk or change your position. Lex and Chloe had both agreed with her, even though Chloe wasn't happy imagining she'd be out for such a long time.

"Don't worry," Lois had told her. "We'll all be there to watch over you. WE won't have the luxury of sleeping through all of those dreadful hours. And you'll be awake when we land for good. You'll be fine, you'll see."

Despite her words, she was frowning as the hospital staff carried Chloe aboard and unfolded the mechanism that supported her leg. She no longer needed an IV, not even to keep her asleep, and her cheeks were rosy with cold, not fever. Nevertheless, Lex shared Lois' sentiments. He'd much rather have Chloe awake, too.

Clark was inside already, helping the nurses with the gurney. Lois waved at McCarthy and ducked into the plane. Lex would have preferred her to fly off with her daddy, but he hadn't made a fuss when she'd declared she was going to travel with Chloe. He didn't like it, but he did understand and even approved. He had a weak spot for people showing sincere love for other people. Even if he loathed Lois, and he did, he did appreciate her protectiveness and care for Chloe, and so he tolerated her aboard his plane.

The engines started to hum, then howl. The snowflakes whirled dizzyingly in the propellers' draft. He turned around one more time, taking in the winter-bare field, the mountains, the dreamy little town in the background, and felt a twisted grin tug at his mouth. He climbed up the stairs of the plane, turned round at the top and raised his hand to McCarthy. Brian raised his hand as well. A thin white stick was wedged between his first and second finger; the wind sucked the smoke from his cigarette faster than he could ever inhale it.

"Don't let me down," Lex whispered. He went through the opening. The inside of the plane smelled of expensive leather and cleaning products. Lois and Clark had already strapped themselves into their chairs; Chloe's bed was secured in the bedroom closer to the tail. A steward closed the hatch behind him.

"We're ready for take-off, Sir."

Lex nodded. He sat down. Fastened his seat belt.

Five minutes later Shueng fell away below them, and Lex put on his headphones and concentrated on not dreading the 20 hours flight he had in front of him.

*

Clark sighed as he finished his second book. He had read it SLOWLY, about five times slower than he was able to, and he'd still finished it in little under an hour. That meant that he still had over eleven hours of flight to go, and he'd read everything he could get his hands on, on the plane.

Not that there weren't many magazines he could choose from. On the contrary, there was a good library on board. Unfortunately, most of them dealt with economics. And many were in languages he didn't speak. _Perhaps_, Clark thought to himself, _I should learn to speak something else than just English. It might come in handy sometimes_—for instance the next time he had to save Lex, or Chloe, or anyone else.

God, he was bored. He wished he could stop dreaming, reading or playing Solitaire and talk to someone for a while, but Lex sat on the other side of the room, wearing a pair of black headphones that enveloped his head like a pair of leather-gloved hands, eyes closed, and showed no inclination to talk.

He sighed again, cast a covetous glance at the Ludlum lying on the table next to Lois. The two of them had talked for the first few hours of the flight, discussing the Shueng case over and over again, comparing views and offering 'whys', 'hows' and 'whos', agreeing and disagreeing until long after they'd left Shanghai for the second leg of the journey. But eventually they had both tired of the subject, and had read for a while. Now Lois had stopped reading, and Clark wondered if she'd notice if he borrowed her Ludlum and finished it before she woke up again.

She had fallen asleep in her chair. Her long legs had found an awkward purchase against the table, her chin rested on her chest. She could not physically be comfortable enough to sleep but there she was, out cold, looking rather cute despite her half-open mouth. Without the usual gunfire of words coming from that mouth, she seemed far softer. Harmless, was what she looked. Almost, but not quite, vulnerable. In a flash of protective instincts he carefully lifted her out of the chair and put her on the bed in the other cubicle, on the bed next to Chloe's gurney. He told himself it was because a Lois with cramped muscles from sleeping in the wrong position was a cranky Lois, and since a cranky Lois was a danger to his self-control. He was just protecting himself.

Lex's mocking face as he strolled back into the lounge told him he wasn't fooling anyone apart from, perhaps, himself.

"Chivalrous till your death, huh?" Lex said, pale lips twisted in a sneer.

Clark shrugged, chose to ignore the jibe; it was the first time Lex had deigned to practice the art of communication since take-off from Shanghai, and he didn't want to waste the opportunity with cheap squabbling. He studied the other man's (what to call him? Friend? No. Old enemy? Not quite) face. Framed by the huge black headphones, the black leather of the chair, and the dark gray of his sweater it seemed as if his head was floating somewhere at chest height, like a balloon. Gazing at the headphones, Clark concentrated, then raised both eyebrows as a string of unintelligible speech entered his ears. He'd been expecting music.

"What on earth are you listening to?"

Lex's eyes snapped back to his face, and as always when Clark displayed some alien trait, a strange hungry gleam lightened the color of his eyes. Usually, that gleam made Clark nervous. Right now, he thought it might be beneficial to Lex, since the tense line of his mouth relaxed a little. "Finnish."

"Finnish?" The incomprehensible language stopped, and a polite woman's voice said, "I did not receive the minutes of last week's meeting." Another voice garbled out more gobbledygook.

"Finnish," Lex affirmed. He pressed a button on his chair and took off the headphones. "I'm trying to learn Finnish. What better time to learn a foreign language than when you're forced to spend hours and hours in the air with nowhere to go and nothing to do?"

Now that was something he should have come up with himself. "You could sleep?" Clark said.

Lex sneered at the dark sky outside. "Yeah, well, I don't sleep so well in planes."

It was a testimony to how tired he was that it took Clark about three seconds before he could roll his eyes at himself, do a mental headdesk and say, "Yeah, right, of course." He considered. "Of course, if anything were to happen with this plane I'd notice it. And stop it," he said.

Lex smirked again, but the hostility in it was gone; he just looked amused, tired and a little helpless. "That is very considerate of you, Clark, but it's not exactly the point. I know this plane won't crash. Why should it? But if it should crash, I want to be awake."

"It won't crash."

"I know that," Lex said patiently. He cast a glance out of the window. "I just told you, I know. My fear of crashing isn't rational, and I know it isn't. I still want to be awake if it DOES come to pass."

Clark did not know what to say to that. He wasn't all too keen on flying himself, but to make things worse by not sleeping, not because he was afraid he was going to crash, but because he didn't want to be asleep if it did...He couldn't put his head around that kind of logic.

"What if you took sleeping pills?" he asked, but even as he said it he knew it was a stupid thought.

"That would knock me out, wouldn't it?" said Lex, again with that funny little smile. It was the same kind of smile he'd worn in Belle Reve, when he'd been doped up to the eye balls and diagnosed insane by the insane, going insane because he wasn't. That particular way of smiling made Clark's scalp pull like a horse's. "And then I'd miss the crash, which won't be coming because we won't crash. Nah, I'd rather learn Finnish." He snorted. "Although I must say I haven't learned much more than 'This meeting is a waste of time' and 'I hate the color of your tie'."

"Interesting lessons you've got," Clark said.

"They are instantly applicable to realistic situations." He took a sip of whiskey. His expression softened. "Much as I appreciate your efforts, you don't need to stay up to keep me company. You must be just as tired as Miss Private, so why don't you turn in as well?"

"Maybe in a bit." Damn it, but how was it Lex could make him feel guilty about wanting to sleep? Maybe he should just pinch him in the neck, knock him out so he'd get some rest as well—but he knew he shouldn't do that. Lex would never trust him again, and with good reason. Christ, but it was difficult maintaining a semblance of an ordinary friendship with this man. He sighed, and Lex's creepy little smile widened to his usual holier-than-thou smirk. But he said nothing, and Clark fell silent as well. He'd wanted to talk, before, but now all of a sudden he couldn't think of anything to say.

After a while, Lex put on his headphones again. And when the non-nonsensical phrases started up, Clark went to the sleeping cabin, cast a look at the bed and at Lois, then shrugged and lay down next to her, secure in the knowledge that if she woke up murderous, she couldn't actually kill him even if she wanted to.

*

He woke up, not entirely sure why. When he checked his watch he noticed he'd been asleep for almost four hours. He rubbed his face, feeling the rasp of stubble, and slowly sat up, careful not to disturb Lois, who was still out. The cabin was almost dark; even the glow from the lounge was dimmed. _Someone is watching me_. He looked at the door opening, and found that the room was so dim because Lex was obstructing the light, leaning against the door frame. Clark couldn't see his face, only the outline of his figure, but he knew the man's eyes were on him, and stared back, wondering what he wanted.

"Are you awake?" Lex asked at the barest whisper.

Clark nodded.

"Are you going to stay awake?"

He shrugged. He wouldn't mind sleeping a bit longer—but years at the farm had taught him to wake early and wake completely. "Yes, I think so," he whispered back.

"You think so, or you're certain?"

"What do you want, Lex?" He took in the slump of the other man's figure.

"Your word."

"My word? That I'll stay awake?" Lex nodded. "And that I'll wake you if anything should happen with the plane?" Another nod. "You don't need my word for that."

"Yes," Lex whispered. "I do. I need you to swear you'll be awake, and that you'll keep watch for me. Because if you won't swear, or can't swear to that, I'll hold out. I..."

"I swear." He swung his feet off the bed, stretched, stood up. "I swear, Lex, relax. I'm gonna stay awake until you wake up again, and if, IF anything were to happen to this plane I will first wake you up and then stop it. Ok?"

Lex huffed out a chuckle. He stepped into the room, thumbs hooked into his pockets, striving for casual. He didn't fool Clark.

"Do you want me to knock you out?"

"Why on earth would I want you to knock me out?"

"You seem kind of tense."

Lex regarded the bed. It was still half-full of Lois Lane. His eyes drifted back to Clark's face and they both grinned. "That's just because I know what will happen to me if I sleep next to HER."

"I could put her back in her chair."

"That would be VERY un-gentleman-like. Nah, leave her there; I'll put up another stretcher." He opened a trapdoor in the wall and pulled down what looked like a quite comfortable bed, looked around and picked up the pillow Clark had used from the double bed. He tossed it onto the other bed.

Clark started as he turned down again and searchingly ran his eyes over Clark's face. "You're sure? That you can stay awake, I mean?"

Clark smiled. "Yes, Lex, I'm sure. You can go to bed safely. The moment I start to feel drowsy I'll wake you up, all right? You can trust me."

That seemed to reassure him. Lex took one more moment to stroke a stray lock from Chloe's face, cupping her cheek in his hand, and sat down on the bed. He hesitated.

"Oh for god's sake, Lex, please lie down and close your eyes already. I'm not going to let you crash."

"I know. I'm just..."

"Stalling." Lex made an effort to stare him down but Clark raised a righteous eyebrow, and in the end he simply shook his head and lay down. Clark expected him to play chicken with sleep for a while and remained in the room, watching. But after one single flutter of his eyelids, Lex's breathing slowed, and so did his heartbeat. He rolled over onto his stomach, brought up his arms beneath his pillow, and lay still, spread over the slab as if he were made of butter.

_Wow_, Clark thought. _That must have taken him...what? Three seconds?_

He'd gone out faster than Clark's PC when he put it on stand-by, and with considerably less noise. He shook his head. Stubborn, neurotic idiot.

With a sigh, he took a final look at his peacefully sleeping flight mates, turned on his heel and went into the lounge.

*

Lex slept for three hours, which was hardly enough to make him feel rested, but enough to enable him to function again. As he pushed himself to a sitting position, still groggy but afraid to fall asleep again, he found himself alone in the room, apart from Chloe. She was still sleeping, but her eyes flitted to and fro beneath her eyelids and her respiration was faster than before. The sedative was wearing off, he guessed. He checked his watch again, noticed he hadn't put it back on American time and adjusted it. ETA at Metropolis was 9:45 PM; it was 6:05 PM now.

"Just a little while longer," he murmured, and smirked when he realized he considered almost 4 hours a 'little while'. He remained in the room for another few minutes, relishing the privacy. Not being a great fan of flying, he had enjoyed it even less with two people constantly in the near vicinity—one of whom he didn't like and didn't trust, and one of whom he trusted with his life but not with his fears.

Wake up and smell the gunpowder, Lex. He knows all about your fears. You used him as a goddamn confessional. He knows, and he doesn't care. If anything, he'll protect you against those fears.

"Such a relief, that," he sneered, and then closed his mouth with a click of teeth when he remembered that Clark could hear his heartbeat from three feet away, and his voice, possibly, from the other side of the plane. Well, that's good, isn't it? He'd notice if Fu Yang had stowed away.

Ugh.

Te murheellinen, tyhmä houkka.

He liked Finnish. It had good insults. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he left Chloe to her slumber and went back into the lounge.

*

When they finally touched down, they were all gray with exhaustion despite the luxurious accommodations. Chloe had been awake for a few hours, but was asleep again, and not even the bump of the landing plane woke her up again. Lois was climbing the walls with nicotine withdrawal. If she had asked Lex if he'd minded if she smoked, he would have told her to go right ahead. She hadn't asked, and he hadn't offered. They had seen two sunrises in one night, breathed artificial air for twenty hours, spent most of this time higher than human kind had a right to be, and their bodies protested against this gross abuse.

Clark and Lois had their noses pressed against the window, eagerly drinking in the lights and the sight of the ground. They looked about as grateful to be on god's green (or in this case asphalted) earth as Lex was feeling. Touch-down had been better than most orgasms he remembered. While he glanced and didn't stare outside like Clark, his eyes, too, were glued to the landing strip slowly rolling past under the wheels of his plane. He was feeling somewhat peculiar, as if he were dreaming. Compressed air and jetlag would do that to you, if you hardly slept, he guessed.

"Hey!" Clark said, pointing. "Look at that."

Lex looked. In the distance, in front of a parked ambulance, two people were waiting next to a car. A man and a woman. The woman had her head turned towards the man, and her hair blew about her face, obscuring it. In the light of the ambulance headlights, it shone a startling red. Lionel Luthor, the man, stood close enough to have their shoulders touching, and for one moment Lex's breath halted, because that woman with her red hair standing next to his father…

"Mom," Clark said, ripping the word out of Lex's mind and identifying the woman, even thought it was a different identity than Lex had put to her. "What's she doing here?"

It took him a few seconds before he could separate his own delusion from reality. Of course it was Clark's mother. There, she'd turned, she waved, Martha Kent's sweet face smiled up at them. Of course she wasn't his mother, Lilian had been dead for over fifteen years.

But…

Sure, he was tired, but…Was this why Lionel kept pursuing her? Because, in the right light, or rather in the right shade, Martha Kent was a dead ringer for Lilian? But then a Lilian who wasn't crazy, who wasn't daunted by her husband's corruption, who hadn't let her own son take the blame for murdering her baby…?

He shook his head. No, that wasn't it. Physically, the only resemblance was their hair, and Martha's hair was more auburn than Lilian's vivid red. Still, he could still feel the shock of that one second of doubt, and all of a sudden he thought he might forgive his father for his interest in Clark's mother.

"He'd have told her when you were expected back," he said. Knowing Martha, she had made him swear to keep her posted. Really, seeing her here at the airport shouldn't have surprised any of them.

The airplane rolled to a stop. The door opened. Hospital staff swarmed aboard to wheel Chloe into the ambulance. Clark, Lois and Lex followed them outside. Here in Metropolis, Spring was already noticeable in the air, even if they couldn't smell it through the kerosene vapors on the airport.

Martha hugged her son, then Lois. She went over to the ambulance, found Chloe still asleep and returned to embrace Lex as well. "I'm glad you're both safe, now," she said, and then pulled Clark to her again, as if to make certain he was truly alright.

Mothers would always be the same, Lex figured. They were concerned about their children whether they could punch through rock and bend iron or not. Then again, with the stunning amount of Kryptonite scattered across the earth, he guessed she had just as much cause to be afraid as any ordinary kid's mom.

"Did you have a good flight?" Lionel.

"It's a long distance," Lex said, with a shrug.

"Yes," Lionel said. "Yes, it is." He gestured at the ambulance. "I've arranged a bed for her. I don't know how long she'll have to stay at the hospital, but I thought it might be a good idea to have our doctors check her over before she went home."

"Thank you."

"And perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to have yourself checked over as well. After all…"

"I'm fine, Dad. But I'll go to the hospital with her, see she's fine before I go home."

Lionel shrugged. "Whatever you want. There's a bed waiting for you as well, should you change your mind."

Lex grinned. He didn't think he would change his mind. He thanked his flight staff, the luggage was loaded into the car, and off they all went.

Lois insisted coming to the hospital as well. Martha and Clark were dropped off at Clark's apartment. "I don't think crowding round her bed will be very comfortable for Chloe," Martha said. "We'll go and see her tomorrow."

The presence of so many other people made saying goodbye to Clark just that: saying goodbye. No 'thank you for saving my soul, body and sanity', or 'thank you for stopping me before I possibly killed the wrong guy'. Just "Bye, Clark, and thanks." Then Clark and Martha Kent got out of the car and disappeared into Clark's flat as the car sped away.

Lex kept losing snatches of time. He was aware of conversing with his father, but he couldn't for the world remember what they were talking about. One moment they were in the car, the next Lionel was talking with a doctor in the entrance hall of the MetHospital. Lois was standing outside, gulping down cigarette smoke as if it held nourishment. He himself was holding a cup of coffee—a clay cup, not plastic. The coffee tasted just as dreadful, but he drank it anyway.

He talked to a doctor himself—Scanlan. The man seemed to know he'd had another run-in with a psycho, or at least with someone interested in inserting substances into his body that didn't belong there, but he managed to brush him off, and inquired after Chloe.

He didn't remember riding the elevator up, but at one point he opened a door and found himself in a large, cozy room—as large and cozy as hospital rooms came—looking down on Chloe's reclining form.

She was awake, probably jostled awake by the transference from gurney to bed. She'd been hooked up to another IV, something clear, maybe just saline solution. She hadn't eaten much during their trip. Her face was pale in the dim light, but when she saw him she smiled. "Hey."

"Hey," said Lex. He kissed her forehead and sat down on the edge of her bed. Exhaustion dragged him down; he almost felt as if the bed was sucking him up like mud. "How are you feeling?"

"Bit...weird. Like my head's stuffed with sawdust."

"Pain?"

"Mm. Well, they say when it hurts, it's healing, right?"

"That kind of depends on the kind of pain you're dealing with," Lex replied. A split second later he realized that wasn't exactly the kind of reassuring remark one made to injured women.

Chloe, however, only smiled the same tired, pale smile that was nevertheless genuine, and patted his knee. "Long day for you too, Lex? It's bearable. I'll be fine. I've already been promised lots and lots of lovely painkillers for the night."

"Painkillers. Yes. That's good." He remembered the joys of morphine.

"Yes. You'd think I'd have slept enough these past days, but I'm still so tired...Are you going home, now? To bed?"

He detected the wistfulness in her voice. "Do you want me to stay?"

She squeezed his thigh. "Don't be ridiculous. What good would that do? I'll be asleep in a couple of minutes. No, go home, go sleep, sleep for 24 hours; you look like you need it."

"I slept on the plane."

"You did?"

"Yes. A few hours. But you're right, I will go to bed. Besides, I'm sure your aggressive cousin's prowling at the door, scratching to be let in and chase my hide out of this room."

"Lois isn't that bad," Chloe said, smiling wider. "She's just a little protective, that's all."

"She's a bloody harpy," Lex muttered. "You know she almost socked me when I...when Clark and I returned to the hotel. For 'risking your life' by not telling her what we were up to." He wasn't aware he was sneering until Chloe's index finger gently tapped his lips.

"She can be a bit...excessive," Chloe admitted. "But on the whole she's really not so bad. She can be very sweet when she wants to."

"She most definitely doesn't want to be sweet to me."

"Maybe she has a good reason to," Chloe said, without blame. "Like you being a total asshole to her whenever the two of you meet."

Lex opened his mouth to protest, reconsidered, nodded. "Probably. She annoys me. Everything about her annoys me. She's rude and arrogant, and being not unattractive makes it even worse. I mean," he was warming up to his dislike now. "She could be gorgeous. But she walks, talks, and acts like a soldier on crack, and dresses even more poorly. She is not unintelligent, but cleverly disguises that fact by using a twelve-year-old's vocabulary. She squanders potential. I find that highly irritating."

"That's a lot of words to say that you don't like her," Chloe said dryly.

"I don't like her," said Lex. "Fortunately, the feeling is mutual. Even more fortunately, we don't have to work together. The last time, this time, it wasn't much of a success."

"As far as I understood it from Lois, you didn't really give her a chance to work with you," said Chloe. Lex noted with joy that a little of the haggard look had left her. That was good. He'd rather have her feeling a bit better defending her despicable cousin than lying like a limpet in a hospital bed.

"She'd only have got in the way."

"I'm sure you subtly made that clear to her?"

Lex frowned, piqued despite himself. "I made a plan to save you, and me, while on the run with an army of knife-happy idiots on my trail and the blood of one of my colleagues still on my hands," he said curtly. "That plan included Clark, you, and me, and most certainly not Miss Soldier girl. If I had thought I needed her I'd have requested her presence. I didn't. She came along anyway. Don't blame me for not jumping for joy."

"You can't 'plan' people wanting to help," Chloe argued. "And you could have known that if you requested both her dad and Clark's help, she'd come along too. She only wanted to help."

"As long as she was around, Clark couldn't use his powers." Lex said. "That's pretty unhelpful, the way I see it. On the other hand, in a way, she did help. She found me. She might not know it, because maybe I wasn't very clear on that at the time, but I am eternally grateful for that fact. Still, you can't blame me for being somewhat ticked-off at the fact that she accused me of risking your life simply because she was of no use to me."

Chloe shook her head, smiling a little. "I don't blame you. I'm just…"

"What?"

"Nothing." She stroked the soft wool of his pants. "It's nothing. Lex?"

"Yes?"

"When can you get me out of here?"

"As soon as they say you're as good as the Chinese doctors claimed you were. We only brought you here to check you over. If any way possible, I'll come and pick you up tomorrow."

"Pick me up to go where?"

"Well, home, of course."

"You mean my apartment?"

"Where else? Unless you want to come and stay with me. You're welcome to, of course, but…"

"No!" She grimaced. "Sorry. That sounded wrong. I'd love to go home. But with my leg…"

"You'd need assistance with a lot of things, of course," Lex agreed, "that is clear. But I could have that arranged in a couple of hours. I'm sure you'd much rather be at home than here, or even with me."

Chloe smiled, silent, and studied her blankets. Lex stroked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I understand completely," he said. "And I'll make sure you can go home with all necessary care as soon as possible."

"That'd be great."

"Consider it done."

They sat for a moment, in a haze of exhaustion and otherwordliness. China was a country far, far away, and the people that populated it hardly seemed real anymore. Chloe cleared her throat.

"Did I tell you about my Tireless Threesome?"

Lex started awake. "No? What about them?"

"Yesterday…no, the evening before we left. They came to say goodbye. Lung, Ai-li and Ta, all three of them. And to say thank you for getting rid of the Phoenix Fire hordes—fat load of work I put into it."

"That's nice. Oh, talking about visitors. My father said he'd got a hold of your dad. He should be here tomorrow morning."

"Daddy?" Her grin made him smile in return. "Oh, that's nice! I haven't seen him in ages!" She considered. "That was very thoughtful of your father."

"Dad is always thoughtful," Lex said. "It's part of what makes him such a dangerous opponent." He rubbed his face. "I need to go or I'll fall asleep right on top of you."

"You never had any trouble with that," Chloe argued.

Lex grinned. "No, but before now, I've never been in danger of being found that way by your cousin."

"Oh come on…"

"You didn't see the heels she was wearing on the flight back. I'm telling you, one kick with those heels and I'll be flat as a pancake."

"Lex…"

He gave her another kiss and stood up. "I'm sure she wants to see you. I'll be back for you tomorrow, with a wheelchair and a construction team to adapt your bedroom."

"If the doctors allow it."

"If the doctors allow it." Lex nodded. "They will. They know me." He brushed at the wrinkles in his pants, gave them up as a lost case and forced his tired spine to stand up straight. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe I'll see your dad, too. I haven't spoken to Gabe in ages."

Gabe Sullivan, once his employee, now the father of the woman he was dating. Huh. That was interesting.

Chloe seemed to have gotten the same idea at the same time. "That might be something to witness, yeah," she said softly, and for the first time in days, most of her wattage was on again.

TBC


	23. Chapter 22

Hey hey. Bit faster this time. The story's almost finished, and I hope to post the last chapter within two weeks. Whether that is the next chapter or the one after that I'm not sure yet.

Thanks for reviewing as always!

Twenty-two: Family ties

Gabriel Sullivan was thirty-four when Metropolis' doctors determined his wife was mad. Before, it was 'mentally disturbed', 'depressed', and 'with schizophrenic tendencies'. Before, that was in the two years that led to that one moment in which he signed the papers to have her transported from the hospital to the clinic where she would most likely spend the rest of her life. After that, it was still mentally disturbed, but it had a different ring, something finite.

The word 'insanity' was finite. In combination with 'incurable', at least, it was finite.

Just like the words of his manager, 'We have to let you go.' It didn't sound so bad. A bit like something you might say to a hare caught in a trap, or a small fish on your hook. 'We have to let you go.' It was as final as Moira's last trip to the clinic.

Chloe had been five at the time. She hadn't understood much of it, he hoped, but any young girl understands something is wrong when her mother starts talking to herself in the kitchen while four befriended toddlers play in the sitting room, forgets to turn off the gas because she hears voices in her head telling her to lie naked in the garden and eat flower bulbs, and can't pick up her daughter from school because she is scheduled to meet her psychiatrist at three.

Gabe had taken over raising his girl long before he finally admitted defeat and had his wife hospitalized. Chloe was a tough girl. Smart. She cried when he told her her mother was a little bit sick, and would need to stay in the hospital for a while, but she didn't throw tantrums or insist on seeing her mother. Something about Moira's affliction scared her, Gabe guessed. Or maybe she had witnessed something no child should ever have seen from a mother. He didn't know. If the latter was true, she never spoke about it. She cried for being a motherless child, but never gave her father a hard time over it.

Gabe wasn't as good at kissing off a hurting finger, at singing rhymes or reading fairy tales as Moira, but he danced with the girl on his hip, or standing on his shoes, to Frank Sinatra, he hugged her when she fell, and she loved his made-up horror stories, very unsuitable for a child her age. When her hamster died and he conducted a small burial ceremony in a large flower pot on the balcony she must have missed her mom, but if she did, she didn't voice it aloud.

Neither did she complain when, one year later, after one part-time job and two utterly failed temps they left Metropolis behind and moved to the rural Smallville, where Gabe had secured a job at the fertilizer plant that enabled him to spend half of the day with his daughter. Little Chloe was a sunny child, always smiling; a tomboy with a cat's grace and curiosity, and she ran with the Smallville children to watch a littler of newborn kittens before Gabe had time to unpack. With Moira gone, he had sworn that his baby girl would never feel abandoned by her parents again, and he never regretted his decision to raise her by himself.

People in Smallville were different than the big city folk. It was harder to be absorbed into the community—they were very friendly but somewhat reserved--, but once he had been to three summer barbeques, he found that their initial distance had only been to let him settle and to see whether the Metropolian actually wanted to be part of the small town crowd. Gabe did not desire a new wife, but he did need friends, and people to help him on days he felt Moira's absence so keenly it felt like a stone in his chest.

The local pub was first to adopt him, and very soon he went there every Wednesday evening after nine for two beers and a game of darts, and every Friday for three beers after work. Hanging with the guys took his mind off his widower-like state, enabled him to forget he was a single dad and remember that he was still a young man, not a living tragedy. On Friday afternoons, Chloe stayed with one of her school friends' parents, the Kent farm or the Ross manor, and a few weeks after Gabe started his Friday pub session, she started staying over for the night at the Kents' as well.

"Don't be absurd, Gabe, it's no trouble after all," Jonathan Kent had assured him when he mentioned something about it being to much of a burden on the Kents. "We love having her over. We have little Pete over, often, too. The three of them are always running around. It's good for Clark to have a few friends on the farm. Gives him an excuse to ditch his chores. Besides, Martha's always wanted to have a girl's hair to plait." He had slapped Gabe's shoulder with a calloused hand, grinning widely. "Don't you worry, man. You need an evening off, once in a while. And we're perfectly happy with Chloe staying over."

Going to Smallville, as it turned out, was the best thing he could ever have done. Sure, it lacked the vibrancy of Metropolis, but it had homegrown fruits and vegetables, friendly people, and at night the stars were always visible. Chloe and he had become a part of the community, they both had a lot of friends, and if Moira noticed he only visited her twice a week now, instead of three times, she didn't show it. She didn't show much of anything, these days. Which was another reason he no longer asked Chloe to come with him when he went visiting her mother. She hadn't seen her in months. The only contact Chloe had with her mother was through the letters she wrote her, and handed to her dad to deliver to Moira. Moira never wrote back. Whether she didn't read the letters or didn't know how to reply to them anymore, he didn't know. After a few years, Chloe stopped writing, too.

Gabe was good at his work, and was on a steady rise at the plant. He no longer worked half days, but had a full-time contract now. When Lionel Luthor promoted him to Foreman, Chloe threw him a celebration party, and he, in turn, took her shopping in Metropolis on his first, significantly higher new salary. They had dinner in one of the sky scraper restaurants overlooking the entire city, and the view was amazing…but he couldn't see a single star in the sky, and when he drove back he was pleasantly surprised to realize that Smallville was Home, now. And that it was good to come home.

Chloe went to high school in Smallville. Gabe became the plant's manager. Chloe assumed responsibility of the Torch, turning the clumsy school rag into something approaching a real newspaper.

Lex Luthor arrived at Smallville and became Gabe's boss, a skinny, bald young man half Gabe's age.

Unlike most of the other plant employees, Gabe was enchanted by Lex, and not a little worried, too. He had never before seen such an insane combination of blatant arrogance, mesmerizing intelligence, frustration, power, need, potential and personal insecurity in a young man before. Especially in the first year of his arrival Lex was like a keg of gunpowder liable to explode at any time.

His ideas were often brilliant, but despite all his intelligence and insight he was still a very young man, barely more than a child, and teenage rebellion still hadn't completely left him. Gabe gathered Lionel had marooned him in Smallville to either punish him for something, or to teach him a lesson. He also understood that Lex was perfectly serious in his attempts to please his father. He wanted to succeed whatever test was flung at him, and three months after the younger Luthor had installed himself at the Mansion, Gabe was convinced he would.

The boy was a born businessman. He was, however, precisely that: a boy. A boy in a suit playing at being his father. At first glance, the suit and the tie provided a convincing cover, and Lex's baldness further helped setting him apart from the other people his age. His plans were as outrageous as they were brilliant, though, and more than once Gabe had to temper his exuberance or swallow a temper tantrum no C.E.O. should throw at his employees. It was fun, though, working under Lex Luthor. It made him feel as if he were doing a little bit more than run a factory that processed shit and rotting vegetables.

Then Lionel returned, and Gabe was one of the first victims of their growing vendetta. He was fired from the plant, then barred from any similar job in the surroundings. Chloe blamed Lionel, but it was Lionel who gave him his job back, only to take it away from him only weeks before he was locked away in prison. Gabe never found out what kind of deal Chloe had made with Lex, only that she had, but that she didn't trust him. When the safehouse exploded above his head and Lex Luthor led him through a tunnel to another place, Gabe decided that she was right in not trusting him.

The attack, even though it was expected and foiled, had badly scared him. When he could get another job in Manhattan he took it with both hands. He'd wanted Chloe to come with him, but she said she couldn't, she had her own life, she didn't want to leave Smallville. And she was, after all, almost a full grown woman. Lionel was gone, Lex never had anything to do with her anyway—or so he thought—and she did have her own life. It was time, Chloe said, that he had his.

So he left.

They called daily, at first, or chatted. Gabe visited Moira once a week, and when he did, he drove the last three hours to Smallville to look up Chloe. But life was as it is, and the daily calls became two-daily, then weekly. She graduated from high school. He got transferred to another city, up north in Carolina. Chloe went to work with the Daily Planet. He bought one every day, hoping to see one of her pieces on the front page. He saw Lex Luthor's picture more often than her articles, but she wrote for the Planet, and she assured him she was doing alright. Later, he only bought those copies that had her column in it.

Once every month, on the ninth, she called him and told him about the changes in her life, and he reported of his own:

She had moved to Metropolis.

He had become a member of the rowing club, and now rowed two times a week.

She had moved up one floor at the Planet.

He had installed a new kitchen.

She had visited her mother. It had affected her, but not Moira.

He was seeing someone, but while she was nice, he didn't think it would work out. She wanted to plan his life, and he didn't like that.

She had a boyfriend, Jimmy. Three months later, Jimmy was gone again.

He had dinner with her a few times a year, and the last time, three months ago, he had realized something; she'd grown into a lovely young woman. A daughter to be proud of. He WAS proud of her. He secretly hoped she was a little proud of him, too.

When Lionel Luthor had left a message on his answer machine he had almost panicked, even though the man's voice was as cool and suave as a priest's: "Mister Sullivan. This is Lionel Luthor. As you may know, your daughter Chloe has accompanied my son on his trip to China. She has had an accident there. She is in no life-threatening danger, but she has been badly injured and I thought you might like to visit her at the hospital. She will arrive on the 10th of March. You will be able to visit you either that evening or on the morning of the 11th. I thought you should know."

He did NOT know about the trip to China. The fact that Lionel assumed he did, disturbed him, but not as much as the fact that Chloe hadn't told him that a. she was going to China, and b. it was with Lex Luthor. Most of all, he was terribly worried about Chloe. Lionel called on the evening of the 9th, leaving him one entire day to arrange things at work so he could leave for a few days to check on his daughter. He couldn't make it on the 10th, which was a Friday, but he caught a plane in the middle of the night and arrived in Metropolis at seven that Saturday morning.

*

He had expected an unconscious Chloe, white and fragile, senseless and scary like a wife in an MRI machine after she had a breakdown.

To his immense relief, a relief so magnificent it forced him to hold on to the door because his legs wouldn't keep him up, she was none of these things.

The Chloe whose face lit up as she saw him half-faint in the door opening was somewhat peaky, yes, but her eyes were bright and a flush of pleasure reddened her cheeks as she exclaimed, "DAD!!"

She was hurt, though, and badly too, as she explained while he sat next to her bed and couldn't make himself let go of her hand. She had a great wound in her side, with twenty-two stitches, a torn muscle in her thigh, and a severed tendon in her lower leg. The side-stitches, however, would be taken out in three days, and the wound was healing well. Her calf was half-way healed as well, or at least well on the way, she corrected with a frugal smile. He gathered it still hurt.

The main problem was the torn muscle in her thigh. According to the doctors, the operation had been successful, and she would most likely recover completely. But that would take time. She would have to stay in bed for at least six weeks, doing only the simplest exercises to keep from growing stiff. The damaged muscle needed complete rest until it had healed before she could start therapy.

"And so," she sighed, "I'm in for a long time of bed rest. At least Lex promised he'd do what he could to let me go home."

Gabe opened his mouth, then closed it. He had so many questions he didn't know where to start. Finally, he began, "But what happened to you, Sweetheart? This all happened in China? What were you doing in China?"

She looked vaguely guilty. "It's a long story."

"You just told me you have loads of time."

That made her grin, and she nodded. "I haven't been completely…open…with you."

"Lex," Gabe understood. She nodded again, eyes averted. He squeezed her hand. "Sweetheart, I don't mind. If you think working for him is…"

"I don't work for him, Dad." She smiled thinly, then looked up. "I'm having a relationship with him."

That was a surprise. Although, maybe it shouldn't be. Yes, it was. He'd always thought she'd fall for someone like the Kent boy, some big, salt-of-the-earth young man—or someone who was a reporter, like her, like the three-month Jimmy. Lex Luthor? Father and daughter had always been of the opinion that the Luthors were a bit like rattle snakes: very interesting, highly observable, but preferably locked away behind glass or at least studied from a long distance. Chloe couldn't stay away from potentially dangerous but intriguing people and situations; she'd always been that way. Lex Luthor WAS an intriguing person, and because of that, Gabe felt he shouldn't be surprised she was attracted to him.

He still was surprised.

"You…really?" Then again, maybe he really shouldn't be. "Well, if you think that can work out, you have my blessings as well. As long as you're careful. But…China? Why China?"

She stared at him, disbelievingly, and then she laughed, holding her injured side with one hand and squeezing his hand with the other. "God, Dad, you're so…uncomplicated! You're so sweet, Dad, you have no idea."

One side of his mouth pulled up. "Not everyone's been happy about this 'relationship'?" he guessed. She nodded. "Is that why you didn't tell me? You were afraid I'd get mad?"

"A little. But mostly…I didn't know how to tell you. I've been unsure about the whole thing for a time. I mean, I wasn't sure if I…And we fought, we had this big fight about…something." She grimaced. "All hail the great, well-spoken reporter. What I mean to say is: Yes, I was afraid you'd get mad, if I told you I was having a relationship with the man who destroyed your career without really knowing for sure I loved him. That's why I didn't tell you. Not to keep it from you. More to keep it from worrying you."

Gabe smiled. He stroked her hand, then released it. Their palms were growing clammy in the warm hospital chamber. "I understand," he said, and meant it. "It's alright. Even if he did destroy my career in Smallville, I can't really blame him for that. Besides, I found a new job—somewhere where they make cranes, not fertilizer. I notice a certain kind of growth." And then, "_Do_ you love him?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I do."

"And you're sure he loves you in return?"

"Dad!" But she was smiling, a kind of dreamy and simultaneously smug smile he'd never seen directed at anyone but young mister Kent. "Yes. He does."

Not 'I think he does' but 'He does'. Gabe nodded, satisfied. If Chloe said Lex loved her, he believed her, and trusted her on her word. The details of why and how were not important right now.

"So what happened in China?"

"Well," said Chloe, and carefully changed her position. "Lex was having this factory built in Shueng…"

*

Several thoughts went through Gabe Sullivan's head while he listened to his daughter's story. Horror at what she had gone through. Pride at how she had handled herself. Admiration for her courage, ingenuity and thoroughness. Anger at those who had hurt her.

"An underground temple with traps in the floor?"

"Not only the floor, according to Clark."

"Clark. Thank god he was there to save you."

Chloe smiled. "It wasn't Clark who saved me, Dad. Lex did."

"You just told me he was under the influence of this Phoenix Fire drug."

"He was. And he rescued me all the same." He had heard more of this subtle hero-worship over the past hour.

No, it wasn't hero-worship. He should give his daughter more credit than that. What she showed was an honest admiration of the man's skill, and Gabe remembered that there were quite a few skills Lex Luthor excelled at. Charm was only one of them. He had always had a protective streak, and no one could dispute the fact that he was incredibly clever.

No. Gabe listened very carefully to Chloe's account, and he heard plenty of awe and approval, but it was neatly balanced by criticism and the mild impatience all friends and lovers had for one another. Chloe, he felt certain, would never be love's fool. Neither would she ever be wealth's slave. Her feelings on the Luthor boy were based on genuine affection—affection and more.

"You're lucky, the both of you, to make it out alive!"

"I know."

"You will be alright, will you? I haven't spoken to a doctor yet…"

"Yes, I will. It'll take time, but I'll be fine. And if Lex is as good as he claims to be, I'll be going home today." She took a sip of the obligatory hospital-orange juice. "So, Dad, enough of me. How have you been?"

"Fine, fine. The usual. Busy. Large project in Atlanta." He rubbed his palms over his knees, for the moment unable to concentrate on Atlanta. "I haven't read anything about this in the papers," Gabe said.

"Lionel must've kept it silent."

"'Lionel'?" First name-basis?

Chloe caught the meaning of his verbal inverted comma's and snorted. "Uh, no. No, the only Luthor I'm involved with is Lex. Lionel does NOT join us for dinner every Friday."

He breathed a sigh of relief. Lex as a boyfriend, he could live with. Lionel as a possible brother in law…no. That might get hairy, in the future. "They're still fighting, then?"

She put the glass back on her side table, mouth pursed in thought. "Nnno. Fighting isn't the right word. They're trying to outdo one another, and manipulate each other, but at the moment it isn't much of a fight." She shrugged. "Might be the calm before the storm."

Gabe said nothing. She didn't need to hear he thought the only way the Luthors would work out their differences was when one was lying dead on the sidewalk with the other one looking down out of the window of the sky scraper he'd pushed him out off. Especially since he still wasn't sure which one would give the final push.

They talked for a bit longer, mostly about China, but also about Atlanta, and drank of the one-teabag-two-gallon hospital tea until Gabe started to feel faint with hunger. He hadn't had anything to eat since he'd scarfed down a bagel at the airport at seven, and it was almost twelve now. He should probably check into his hotel, too, he gathered.

"Go eat," Chloe nudged him. "I'll have my meal, too, in a bit." She wrinkled her nose. "Hot food at lunch. And they wake you up at seven-thirty. I hope I'll never have to get used to it."

She waved when he left, his small suitcase dangling from his right hand, and he waved back at her, deeply thankful she was capable of smiling and waving despite her injuries.

Just as he walked out of the elevator, he almost bumped into the subject of the conversation of the last half hour. The subject had changed little over the years, Gabe noted. He was still bald, pale, and held his chin up as if an invisible hand was pushing his head back into his neck. As he saw Gabe, Lex Luthor's eyes widened momentarily; then his mouth broadened into a smile.

"Gabe." He shook his head. "Sorry. I guess I should call you Mister Sullivan, now."

And that was funny, because Gabe had been on the brink of greeting him as 'Mister Luthor'.

However, he wasn't about to 'Mister' a man who was both younger than him, no longer his employer, and who additionally was dating his daughter.

"Lex," he said, and Luthor's smile turned into a grin. Lex had always been charming if he wanted to. Gabe felt some unknown tension dissolve, his shoulders relaxed and the smile on his own face started to resemble something spontaneous instead of a muscle cramp. It was odd, though. He'd seen this man's face on several tabloid covers, in newspapers and on the net, but meeting him again in person affected him more than he'd thought it would.

Lex, too, studied him with what almost looked as unease.

"Are you..." he started, just as Gabe said,

"Were you..."

Lex made a gesture for Gabe to continue. He did. "Were you just going up to her?"

"Yes." The smile faded to its natural curve; Lex's eyebrows dipped slightly in concern. "Are you alright with this? I assume she told you."

"Why shouldn't I be?" He was surprised Lex, the Great Lex Luthor who ran for Senator when he was only 26, would somehow feel the need to ask permission for anything, let alone sleeping with one of his ex-employees' daughter. It showed a kind of decency he didn't usually attribute to anyone in that family. Wrongfully, perhaps.

"There are a lot of reasons why you shouldn't be," Lex said with a shrug. "The most obvious being that I put her in the hospital this time."

"I can't say I'm thrilled seeing my little girl in the hospital," Actually, it scared him to death, "but she's a strong one, Chloe. And she assured me no one was to blame for her accident but the circumstances and she herself. She also told me," he stared Lex straight in the eye, "that you would probably try to blame it on yourself. And you do. I mean, you just did. That shows insight into your character, doesn't it? She's always been a good judge of character, and if she knows you that well, who am I to tell her she's wrong? She's a smart girl, and I trust her completely. If she is alright with this, so am I." He stuck out his hand.

Lex gaped--if only a fraction of a second, but his jaw dropped--and then he showed Gabe one of the very few sincere expressions of pleasure he ever showed: an honest to god grin that reached all the way to his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. When he'd been the little-more-than-adolescent boss of the Shit Factory, his eyes had crinkled like that much more often, Gabe remembered. A few years of Smallville-prejudice exposure, political aspirations, interfamilial scheming, a few filicide and patricide attempts and too much money, too much responsibility, too much of EVERYTHING had killed off that boyish smile and turned it into a mask.

"Thank you," Lex said—not because of the permission, Gabe instinctively guessed, because Lex Luthor was not the kind of man who would abandon a woman only because the father objected to his wooing the girl, but because of the easy way it was given. His uncertainty in that respect must have rubbed off on Chloe. It was sad, really. Surely the man had his faults, but Gabe knew by experience that he wasn't that much of a disaster.

He clasped Gabe's hand and shook it. Gabe grinned. "People will think I've just sold a horse to you," he said, jerking his chin at the people staring at them: two men shaking hands in the middle of the hospital waiting hall.

"That'd be spit and shake," Lex said. His old arrogance reappeared. "Besides, I don't need to buy her."

"That's good," Gabe said calmly. "I would never sell her. Or shake hands with you if there was any mention of a transaction."

They released one another. Lex put his hands in his pockets. Gabe crossed his arms across his chest.

"No," Lex said softly, studying one of Gabe's shirt buttons. "No transaction. I have trouble enough making her accept presents I buy her, let alone buying HER." He smirked, faced Gabe again. "I'd ask you for her hand, but I think I should probably ask her first, or she'll use it to punch me in the head."

And at that moment, Gabe decided that he was okay with Lex.

"You're right. She would." He uncrossed his arms, didn't know what to do with his hands and put them in his coat pockets. Now they weren't shaking hands, but standing in front of one another, both with their hands in their pockets. Still in entrance hall, only a bit more to the side. Like he had felt incapable of letting go of his daughter's hand, he now felt incapable to go somewhere more quiet, sit down, talk about this in private. They remained in the hallway. "Will you?" he asked.

"Marry her?" As usual, Lex was quick on the uptake. He smiled. "Not yet. Not if I can help it. She wouldn't accept me yet—not if she knows what's good for her. No, I'll wait for a bit. At least until she's back on her feet. Then we'll see." He glanced at Gabe from the corner of his eye. "If I did, would YOU accept it?"

"If she would, why shouldn't I?" Maybe that was a bit harsh. He raked his fingers through his hair. It was oily; he should really have a shower. "Let me rephrase that. Chloe is my only daughter, and if I got as much as an inkling of an idea that you would somehow wrong her…Well. But she belongs to herself. And if she gives herself to you, I have to trust her to make the right decision. She usually does. And therefore, if she accepts you, so will I. I'm just not the right person to ask." He frowned as Lex started to laugh. "What is it?"

"I'd forgotten how wise you were." His voice was mocking, but his eyes were crinkling again. "Where are you working again?"

Now it was Gabe's turn to laugh. "With a company I rather like."

"I could look it up. Make you an offer you couldn't refuse."

"I can refuse everything," Gabe said, turning serious again. "I'm like my daughter in that respect. We can't be bought." He had been bought, once, by this man's father; or rather, Chloe had spied for Lionel for his sake. She had confessed so one evening after their bi-monthly dinner. She had also told him she would never do such a thing again. He trusted her. Luthors never gave up, well, Sullivans would not be bought.

Lex looked away, crinkles gone, and nodded. "But you can be persuaded. I could use someone like you. Not too close…you wouldn't have to work with me directly. That would be unhealthy. But I have other companies in Kansas that could…"

"Thank you," Gabe interrupted him, "but no. I'm happy where I am."

"Far away from Chloe, and from your wife."

"I can visit them whenever I like. We all have our own lives. Chloe doesn't need me in hers anymore, not as an everyday influence. She's only one phone call away. My wife…"

"I'm sorry," Lex said, making a cutting gesture with his hand. "Forget I mentioned it."

"We Sullivans are not like you Luthors," Gabe continued obstinately. "We don't need to constantly keep an eye on one another. That doesn't mean I don't love her, or that I won't protect her. I learned to let go when I was only a little older than you are now. It's something your father never learned. And don't take this personally, but I never want to be dependent on anyone belonging to a family that regards their employees' lives as collateral damage in their game of thrones again. That is another thing I learned, the hard way, when I worked for you in Smallville."

"I am not my father," Lex hissed with surprising vehemence.

"I know that," Gave agreed. "But as long as the both of you are alive, I will never know which Luthor I'm working for. And so, thank you, Lex, for your offer. I'm not being sarcastic, I do appreciate the gesture. But while you're welcome to have Chloe if and when she wants you, you'll have to do without me. No hard feelings."

Lex definitely did have hard feelings. He had never been a gracious loser. But he nodded, and when he faced Gabe again a lopsided smile curved his mouth. "Are you sure you can't be bought?"

"Yes."

"Then I won't name a price. It's been good to see you, Mister Sullivan. How long will you be staying here?"

"Five days."

"Hotel?"

"The Best Western on 44th and Triptich."

"Good. That's close to her apartment. She'll be going home at two. Transport's already been taken care of. I've had some changes made to her living room, so she'll be comfortable while she's bed-bound. Maybe you can help her put everything exactly the way she wants it. She might prefer your company to mine, you being her dad and all."

That must have hurt. It was also one of the most idiotic things Gave had ever heard an intelligent man say. His feelings must have shown on his face, for Lex dropped his self-sacrificing pose and grinned. Gabe couldn't help grinning back. He wanted to say 'You're so full of it,', but Lex was still his old boss, and Gabe was programmed to be polite to his superiors, even if they were younger AND dating his daughter.

"So I will see you at two?" he asked.

Lex nodded. "You going out for lunch?"

"Breakfast. And a shower."

"Then I'll see you at two. I'll be at the apartment. Perhaps you can ride the taxi with Chloe?"

Gabe nodded. They walked past one another, Gabe to the exit, Lex to the elevators. As he pushed his way through the revolving doors, Gabe found himself shaking his head and muttering "Talk about insane." to himself. But he wasn't duly concerned. Not about Lex, in any case. What made his stomach churn was the idea of his girl impaled on three stakes in a trap. That she was sharing Lex Luthor's bed—or anyone's bed—was something a father could only accept, and personally, he thought she could have done worse. Even if she could have done better, or at least SAFER, too.

*

"Lex?" Chloe asked, when the home care personnel had left and she was alone with her father and her boyfriend. "How the hell did you get this in here? Did you sleep at all this night?"

"You don't like it?" Lex asked anxiously.

She opened her mouth to speak, thought better of it and shrugged, smiling. Her eyes traveled over the interior of her little flat, and she honestly had no idea how to respond. She was home, but it hardly looked like home anymore.

The couch, the old chair, her table, the TV, her desk and chair—everything up to the vacuum cleaner that usually stood parked in the corner, was stacked against one wall, creating a large open space. In the center of that space was a king-size hospital bed, complete with adjustable head and foot pieces, electric blanket and seven different sizes of pillows. On the wall across from the bed hung a four by five flat screen, and on the stylish, narrow stand below it stood a DVD recorder and player, a digital receiver and an impressive stack of DVDs. Next to the bed, on the right side, was a mini bar. Chloe wondered if Lex had simply taken it from the Chinese Hotel. It looked just like it. On the other side of the bed stood an adjustable table that could be pulled over the bed to enable the convalescent to write when she felt like it, and pushed away again when she didn't need the support.

Her curtains had been replaced by window drapes on remote control. The remote control for the door, as Lex had pointed out to her, was lying on the table beside her bed, next to the five other remote controls, her laptop and her phone. She could organize everything in her house from her bed, apart from cooking.

The bathroom was taken care of as well, with hand supports everywhere: above her bath, next to the toilet…

"I…" she said, shaking her head and laughing. Lex was a burglar. He had literally stolen her living room. She was sincerely touched, more than a little awed, and slightly alarmed. By the looks of it, so was her father. "Yes, yes, I do. I'm just…a little overwhelmed, I guess."

"You can have everything changed back the way it was once you get back on your feet, of course," Lex said, giving her old table a pat. "This is just to make you comfortable. And we need to put those chairs back around your bed, or you won't be able to entertain visitors."

"Heh," Chloe breathed. She couldn't take her eyes off the flat screen. It had probably cost more than the rest of her furniture put together. How had he managed to have everything installed in the few hours between their arrival by plane and her release from the hospital she couldn't even guess. "Jesus Christ, Lex…it must have cost a fortune."

He shrugged. "That's ok."

"I'll pay you back somehow."

"Oh, sure, you can give it back to me when you're finished healing up from our nice trip. I don't think I have a flat screen in my toilet yet." He rolled his eyes, but his brow furrowed, and she got the idea he was more than just mildly irritated.

"What," she asked teasingly. "Did I insult you?"

"Actually, you did." He smiled, but the line between his eyes hadn't completely vanished. The next pat he gave her table sounded more like a slap. "Money…I'm sorry to brag, but it's the truth; money is nothing to me. Nothing. This…" he gestured at the completely modified room, "I don't even know what it cost. I don't care, either. You putting a monetary value on it, however, and thinking that I'd care about that—worse, offering to PAY IT BACK, makes it…cheap."

"Now Lex," Gabe started, but Lex raised his hands to show he was done whining and faced Chloe with a face that was a gently smiling mask.

"So you like it? If you don't, I can have it changed back. No problem. Do you need anything else?"

"No," Chloe said quietly. "Yes, I do like it. I'm sorry if I…"

Again his hands rose in that defensive gesture. "It's ok. It's me who should be sorry. I guess I'm still a bit tired from the flight." He did seem a little haggard, she thought.

"Did you sleep well?"

And just like that the mask was gone, and he snorted. "Yeah, I slept like a baby. Not as long as I'd have liked, though." He jerked at the back of one of the stacked chairs, winching as the TV wobbled. Gabe hastened to steady it.

"Let's do that together, shall we? That TV may be old, but there's no sense ruining it. Maybe Chloe can put this one in the bedroom."

"Then I'd rather have the flat screen," Chloe piped up, watching the two men pull the chairs up to the bed. "I spend more time watching television in bed than in my living room." She leaned back against her pillows—three, the other four were beneath her bum leg and on the floor. The spotless, clean, sweet-smelling floor. Blessed be the man: he'd had the place cleaned before reorganizing it. Her place was by no means filthy, but she was a sloth, and somehow cleaning was never high on her list. Now it was cleaner than Lex's penthouse.

She grinned. The painkillers were wearing off, she badly needed coffee, and she should be wallowing in self-pity, but the truth was that she was feeling extremely satisfied. Her father was here. Lex was here. They weren't fighting; on the contrary, they were brotherly dragging chairs around.

And hell, she was healing, she'd be fine, and even if she KNEW she'd be crawling up the wall in a few days, she couldn't make herself care about that right now.

"Do you have a coffee machine I can control from my bed, too?" she asked.

Lex straightened up. "Actually…" He gazed around, frowned, then clacked his tongue.

"You're kidding me."

"Actually…no. I'm not kidding." He ducked into the kitchen. "Mm. They haven't installed it yet." And to her immense delight he reappeared pushing a cafeteria-model coffee, tea and soup machine out in front of him. She whooped. Gabe started laughing aloud. Lex cast another searching glance around. "Do you have another plug around here?"

***

During the next three days, Chloe didn't have any time to feel sorry for herself, or lonely. While she'd been lying in the Chinese hospital bed, feverish and in a lot of pain, she had pictured herself abandoned in an echoing room, with only soft-slippered nurses to relieve her boredom.

Nothing was less true.

After she'd reassured him he was most welcome to stay, her father had checked out of the hotel and moved into her bedroom. He never offered to help her shower or dress, leaving that to the people qualified for it, and neither did he sit at her bed to hold her hand and talk from the moment she woke up until bed time. That wasn't his style. They watched movies together, and they did talk, but he had his own business, and left her to do hers, too. Gabe had taken leave for four days, but his project in Atlanta continued and he spent several hours a day in her bedroom, door closed, to make phone calls, draw up contracts and type emails on his dingy Acer.

If he wasn't there, Lex was. He visited her in the afternoon, after learning that Gabe conducted his business around four, and sometimes after dinner. He and Gabe behaved in an easy, natural manner around each other, and while Lex obviously tried to stay out of Gabe's hair while he was there, Chloe was happy to see that neither of the two men showed any unpleasant Chloe-is-mine! behavior.

If Lex wasn't around (and once when he was, which made for a very amusing scene) Lois came by to visit her, and once or twice Clark showed his face as well. They brought get-well cards from the better part of the Planet, and something to do as well: articles that had to be edited or outlined and questions to which the answered had to be looked up on the web. Far from feeling insulted by Perry's assumption that she only stayed away from her work because she couldn't physically leave her bed, and that she didn't actually want to take sick leave, she was glad to have something to do.

When she'd have any time for herself, that was.

Several other colleagues from the Planet came by to see her and give her flowers, as did Martha Kent, and her crazy neighbor, finding most of those flowers drooping when she visited herself, took charge of the wilting plants. With Margery came her cat, Rosenkranz. He followed her around while she watered the plants, scratched at the coffee machine, and finally made himself comfortable at Chloe's feet. Gabe left on Thursday, but Rosenkranz remained behind after Margery had performed her daily floral miracle. "He'll come home when he gets hungry," were her stoic words. "I'll hear him meow when he wants to get in."

Rosenkranz flicked one ear at that. He obviously wasn't hungry, for he staid with her the entire afternoon. It was very hard to be lonely while being observed by the half-shut eyes of a creature that so obviously considered itself to be superior to you.

While she missed her father when he had gone, she felt a strange kind of relief at his departure, as well. She loved him, and seeing him for a stretch of days had been wonderful. However, she was no longer used to having a father around, and while he hadn't been at all intrusive, she had missed her privacy. Rosenkranz's presence didn't interfere with her privacy. Neither did Lex's. She wondered whether he'd come more often now her father was gone, or that he'd go back to work to leave her for some quality time with the rented cat.

*

Lex had given himself three days off to recuperate from his China adventure. In these three days he did nothing but sleep, visit Chloe, drink too much and indulge in everything he liked eating.

He told himself he was doing very well.

The first night back in Smallville he had slept like the dead until the certainty that he was strapped to his bed made him shoot up straight, hands raised to fend off Fu Yang's razor blade. Of course he was all alone in his room, that spacious bedroom in his Metropolis Penthouse. The only thing restraining him to the bed was his duvet.

The sky had still been dark, as dark as the Metropolis sky ever was, and when he read the time he noted to his chagrin that it was only six-fifteen. He had only been asleep for five hours. Rolling back onto his stomach—why did he end up on his back when he always went to sleep belly-down anyway?—he carefully folded the covers around him and closed his eyes again.

"Do you know what I put in there? Sheep. Ground sheep bones and offal from a freshly slaughtered sheep. Works like a dream."

"Shut the fuck up."

Fu Yang didn't shut up. He cackled and chattered in Lex's overtired brain like a macabre mental kind of Punch and Judy doll. The more Lex tried to ignore those Chinese phrases, the more real the person who whispered them into his ear seemed, and in the end he gave up. He didn't bother getting dressed but padded barefoot, only in his boxers, to his living room. He left the light off, taking comfort in the soft darkness lit by the city lights outside.

Metropolis. A safe place. His apartment; even safer. There was no way Fu Yang could ever sneak into his home, even if he could follow Lex to America—_But he won't do that. He hasn't, in any case. Not if I sliced up the right guy._

A dull headache started up in his left temple, and he pressed his forehead against the glass wall Chloe loved so much. _I'm home now. I'm safe. He's gone. And if he isn't, I'll recognize him when he comes for me._

If I sliced up the right guy.

Sleep proved to be evasive, so he poured himself a drink, lit a cigarette and started arranging Chloe's release from the hospital. Scanlan replied to his email only half an hour after he sent it, he must have worked the night shift, or early morning shift, and confirmed that Miss Sullivan did not need to stay at the hospital. The doctor gave him a number he could call to arrange day care.

The sun came up while he was on the phone, and the sun rising red and candy-like between the teeth of the city reminded him of the fact that she wouldn't be able to leave her bed to open and close her curtains. She'd need a proper bed, too. Her current bed wasn't adjustable. One consideration led to the next, and before he knew it, he'd ordered an entire redecoration.

The rest of his day was similarly busy as well: phoning his dad to prove he hadn't gone round the bend, calling Mary to ask for any planned urgent meetings, mailing his project managers to see how things were going. Talking to Gabe, Chloe's father, was a whole lot less painful than he'd expected, but it was awkward all the same. And Chloe herself was cheerful and positive, but she seemed so frail somehow, with all those bandages around her…

When he got home that evening he went straight to bed, even though it was only ten. He was completely beat.

The rest of those three days passed in much the same way. Nightmares woke him early in the morning, chasing him out of bed to do some tele-working, reading or swimming in the basement pool. Valerie Decan sent him a mail inviting him for lunch at LuthorCare, so they could discuss his time in China, and to give her the opportunity to show him the results of the hair treatment for his small cancer patients. He politely declined, suggesting a date somewhere in the future. In the afternoon he usually visited Chloe. Clark called him on the second day after they'd returned, saying they should talk, but he feigned an appointment and put it off for at least another week. He didn't want to talk, not to Valerie and not to Clark. Not to the last because he knew what had happened to him, and not to the first because she would find out simply by talking to him.

On Thursday morning he went to his office, and was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by welcoming faces and a large bunch of flowers on his desk. It seemed they had missed him, and had been worried by his prolonged stay in Shueng. Despite his father's secrecy, something of the kidnapping must have leaked out, and Mary's handshake was as tight as a hug, her expression as searching as it was friendly.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked. "We weren't told much but we gathered there were…complications."

Complications. Yes, that was one way to put it.

"Yes," he said. "There were. But they're solved now." He hoped to god they were, and knew that they weren't. Not until he knew he had carved up the man he thought he'd carved up.

*

Chloe called him at two, saying her father had left for the airport. Lex was aware of the fact; he'd wished Gabe a good journey the evening before. Her call made him smile, though.

"Are you feeling lonely already?"

"Lonely is a bit of an overstatement. I'm bored."

"I thought your delightful cousin brought your job to your doorstep?"

She sniffed. "I am an injured woman, slowly gaining strength after severe physical trauma." Her tone was mock-suffering, but it still made him grit his teeth. "I do not wish to do any work. Yet."

In her own way, the sweet girl was as much of an alcoholic as he. "Shall I come over then?"

"That's the idea." Now she sounded smug. "We still need to see Stardust."

"Is that the one about the fallen star?"

"Yes."

"It's one of those romantic flics, isn't it?"

"It's…" he heard the rustle of her hair against the phone as she tucked it between her chin and her shoulder. "It's a…um…Well, it says on the back: ´Escape into the enchanted world of chivalry and romance in Stardust, an epic tale starring Claire Danes with Michelle Pfeiffer and Robert De Niro.'"

"Robert De Niro?" Lex instantly recalled the scene in The Godfather II in which dear old Robbie used some poor sod's head for baseball practice. "That's good."

"'In hopes of wooing a beautiful girl (Sienna Miller), Tristan (Charlie Cox) promises to bring her a falling star," Chloe continued.

Lex fought the urge to stick out his tongue. "Well that sounds fascinating."

"'But," she declaimed with full dramatics, ignoring him, "'he's in for the adventure of his life when he discovers the star is actually a celestial beauty named Yvaine (Danes). When an old witch Lamia (Pfeiffer) attempts to steal Yvaine's youth…"

"Hold on. Pfeiffer? As in Michelle Pfeiffer?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Michelle Pfeiffer isn't old!"

"She's about fifty, I think."

"She is? God. Ladyhawk, where hast thou gone? But fifty? Fifty isn't old."

"Look, I'm just reading what's on the back of the DVD, alright?" Chloe said. "Pfeiffer plays an old witch called Lamia…"

"How original," muttered Lex.

"And she tries to steal Yvaine's youth. Now 'Tristan must protect her at all costs, in this magical family adventure that will make you fall in love over and over again.'"

"Over and over, no less."

"By the way, Robert De Niro plays a gay pirate."

The Godfather in Lex's head was suddenly wearing a pink suit and a fat chain around his neck with a medal holding his mommy's picture. The baseball bat burst into spontaneous bloom. He sighed.

"Sounds lovely."

"Doesn't it?" She was laughing. "Wine will ease your suffering."

"I'll pick up a bottle on my way." He checked his watch. "I can be there in about half an hour. I need to finish some things up here, first."

"Oh, you're at work! I'm sorry, I thought you were at home. If you're busy there…"

"No," said Lex. Tomorrow was another day. "It's ok. I'll see you in thirty minutes."

"Ok," she said. And then, teasingly, "Love you."

"Same here," Lex saved himself, and she laughed again.

*

Gabe Sullivan was a good man. Even while he peered at Lex with 'I know you're sleeping with my daugher'-eyes, he was a kind-hearted, sympathetic guy. As he let himself into Chloe's flat (having appropriated the key some time ago), Lex hummed contentedly to himself, knowing Gabe was gone.

Really, the man would be an asset to his firm. He was very happy to have Chloe to himself again, though. Lex Luthor loved sharing, but not his girl friend. Not even with her own dad.

"Aloha," Chloe spoke up from her bed as he entered the room. She must have taken her pills recently, for her eyes were slightly glazed and her smile was wide and easy. _No wine for Chloe,_ he reminded himself, and put the bottle in the kitchen before he approached the bed to peck her on the mouth.

"Hey. How are you today?"

"I'm peachy. Bored, but peachy. I've been writing down all the euphemisms for sex in the Candlelight Romances Bobby Jagger—she's a colleague of mine—gave me last Tuesday."

Lex raised his eyebrow. "Interesting new hobby?"

She nodded vigorously. "Mmm!" She fished a notepad from underneath her pillow. "I especially like: he filled her cream doughnut, and here, where he Stormed the pearly gates with his purple-headed devil…" Lex groaned. Chloe grinned. "Wait, there's more. Patrick at one point Eats Aurora's hymeneal sweets, and his bad-ass rival Parks the beef bus in tuna town—tuna town being the privates of the slutty antagonist…"

"That's disgusting!" Lex said, revolted. "How can you give this junk to a befriended patient!?"

Chloe giggled. She seemed to think it was funny. "Then what about this one: Eating the cream puff in the enchanted forest?"

"Illustrative, but still horrible."

"Sandra Prays with the knees upward," He did laugh at that, "and innocent nun Kimberly…"

"A nun called Kimberly!"

"…refers to her mind-numbing experience with her square-jawed Adonis Roger as Performing the Act of darkness."

"Good grief. So they didn't even use the verb 'to be Rogered'?"

"Nope. Well, not in the Roger and Kimberly novel." Lex snorted. "Do you want to hear my list of euphemisms for the penis?"

Lex shivered. "Not really. I can make up a few of my own."

"Oh really? Do tell."

"Anything with snake will do." Something he had regarded as a pillow suddenly made a soft sound, and he bowed to have a look at the round fluffy object curled up against Chloe's good knee. He raised his eyebrows. "What's that?"

"That," Chloe said, "is a cat."

"Since when do you have a cat?"

"I don't. My neighbor lent it to me."

"She LENT it to you?"

"Yup." She stroked the cat's ears. It purred briefly and kneaded one lazy paw into her covers. "According to Margery the presence of a cat will make you recover five times as quickly as...well, the absence of a cat. Margery's the one who takes care of my plants," she added, gesturing at the blooming orchid, the amaryllis, and a number of green plants spread around the room. "During my holiday, at least. Now she's taking care of them, too, since I'm such a poor bed-ridden invalid. She cast one look at me and decided I was in dire need of a cat. So now I have a room mate." She grinned, and petted the cat again. "He's called Rosenkranz."

"Really," Lex said. "And? Has your recovery sped up?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "He's a very sociable companion, though. Although he doesn't like it when I cough. He complains." She coughed experimentally. Rosenkranz uttered a sleepy protest. "Melissa told me I should talk to him. It will build up positive energy."

"Your neighbor is a bit lacking in the brain department, isn't she?" Lex concluded with a sympathetic smile.

Chloe shrugged again. "She talks to my plants. And to hers. They look wonderful. All I ever uttered to my plants are threats, and they always died after a few weeks."

"Then you didn't say the right things to them," Lex said. "Plant suicide is not what you're looking for; you want them to fear you so much they don't dare to die, not wither and escape that way."

Chloe smirked. "They're PLANTS. Plants don't commit suicide."

"No? Then why did your plants die?"

"Because I treated them badly."

"Too much water? Too little?"

"I have no idea. I always forget what they need."

"Suicide, then," Lex said firmly. "A cry for attention. Plants just never know when to stop, and then they die. Tragically. It's a problem, really."

"So there's a clinic for suicidal plants, too?"

"Only the compost heap, I'm afraid."

"The Smallville plant."

"Exactly."

They grinned at one another, and the last faded image of Fu Yang buried itself deep in Lex's head, away from the now. It would probably drift back to the surface during the night, but for the moment, he thought he was doing pretty well again.

TBC


	24. Chapter 23

**Twenty-three: Slow Burn**

Madness, Lex reflected one evening, while he stared at his bed and wondered whether he would be able to sleep without nightmares, was relative. What might be considered madness in one person, might be regarded as completely normal in another. Lex Luthor's brain didn't work like that of ordinary men. Ever after that one memorable event on a Kansas plain, Lex's mind had exploded like a supernova, making him smarter, faster, more adaptable than the simple people around him.

However, the people surrounding him weren't simple.

His own father was only ten IQ points short of being a genius, and his mother's brain had been slipping on the slide of sane-to-brilliant madness for some years before a Kryptonite meteor pushed her son's intellect from 'sensitive and sharp' to 'through the proverbial room, ma'am, and we're on the 31st floor here'.

The literal words of his baffled teacher, coming to see the Luthors after little Alexander, still sensitive, and more sensitive than ever now he was no longer a red-headed rich little snot, but a bald rich little snot, had finished all of his finals with straight 'A's.

Being a sensitive child meant he cried when he was called names. It meant he blubbered like a baby when children snubbed his parties. It meant blinking tears away while sitting next to his mother's bed while she wasted away. It meant feeling every slight, every wrong, as if it were a personal affront, and hurting because of it.

If he hadn't been such a sensitive child, Lex often contemplated, he'd never been able to harden himself against his feelings and survive all life threw at him in his adult years. Betrayal, from friends as much as from family and enemies, violence, sexual warfare, blackmail in its basest form, acts of murder, poisoning, torment, despair. He'd been shot several times and he had vivisected live specimens who had a name and a future in front of them. He had spent four months on a deserted island going mad to save himself, and he had induced insanity in people who went against his wishes. What would have driven a normal man insane, had only made him stronger. Survival of the fittest, and no one could deny he was the height of fit.

"You're young, and you see very fit."

Experience had dulled the trauma—at least, he'd like to think so. Being tortured by Fu Yang was not what had shaken him so badly this time. Neither was losing it and cutting up his enemy until his blood splattered against the wall. Not even the possibility—no, it wasn't a possibility because it HAD been Fu Yang—he had used that scalpel on another man was what made him wake up with pillow-feathers in his mouth in the bleak hours before dawn. He felt no guilt whatsoever. All those Temple freaks were guilty of Chloe's abduction and his own week of pain, starvation and misery. They all deserved to be torn up in his opinion.

No, it wasn't guilt what was breaking him up; it was the uncertainty. Because if he HAD maimed Fu Yang, and Fu Yang HAD survived, he'd see him coming if he ever decided to take revenge. But if he HADN'T…

It had been the same when Martin Edge had shot him to hell and disappeared in a cloud of exhaust condense. He'd seen Edge's face in every man's visage, and the tension had almost made him snap. Lex was still wary of Martin Edge's possible return, but part of Edge's strength was his honesty, and after that last email telling Lex that he was safe from Edge, Lex had enough belief in that honesty to trust in Edge's assurances.

Edge had only had him for a few minutes, and his intention had been to kill Lex—that, or drive Chloe mad. Lex was selfish enough to believe he was Edge's main target. He'd had a reason—a pretty good reason, actually—to want Lex dead, and if he hadn't been on the receiving end, Lex might even have sympathized with him.

Fu Yang…Fu Yang was Lex if Lex would not have been comfortably standing, but slip-sliding down that slide of sane-to-brilliant madness (baby-throttling madness), and even trying to understand him made Lex's guts turn to ice. Made his sane-Lex-Luthor-mad-ordinary-person brains glitch and quiver whenever he tried to beat his fear by putting himself in Fu Yang's place. Because Lex understood the need to observe and study, even if it hurt other people. The end justifying the means, et al. He could even understand sadism; he was no stranger to the sentiment himself. But the way Fu Yang had looked at him surpassed any situation Lex had experienced before.

It was WRONG, and Lex had the feeling that if he ever would be able to get even close to knowing what drove Fu Yang, he really would be ripe for the loony bin.

Not being sure that this creature was safely cut to ribbons and abandoned in China, was slowly but certainly wearing him down.

He recognized all the signs of an impending breakdown: he had trouble sleeping, and if he did sleep, he had nightmares that left him trying to throttle his pillow or attack his bed lamp. He was fidgety and hot-tempered at the office, driving poor Mary round the bend with his mood swings and obsessive work mentality. He drowned both her and himself in labor, and made two days of fifteen hours each, until her glances at him took on an almost despairing quality. The next day he was wholly unable to concentrate, and sent her home at two. He sat at his desk for two hours, staring at an order he couldn't for the world care about and seeing nothing but Fu Yang's mutilated hands and face, unwilling to go home, and at the same time unable to relax and clear his head.

The only thing besides work (and Chloe, let's not forget Chloe, but she was still healing because Lex had let her get caught by that group of imbeciles) that enabled him to stop milling about Fu Yang and the whole China disaster was physical exercise, and so he went running, or swimming, miles; before work when he woke up after a few hours of restless slumber, and after work, when his mind was numb with exhaustion but his body refused to turn off. So he ran, on the garden grounds of the Mansion in the dead of night if he happened to be in Smallville, on the treadmill in the gym in the basement of his Metropolis apartment and, once or twice, through the abandoned hallways of his company building.

When he returned from a midnight run around the Mansion, James, his irrepressible butler, gave him a cup of tea and some sound advise on how to beat insomnia. Lex had smiled and nodded his thanks. James did not know that his master had been in the hands of a psychopath for six days and that all the sheep Lex counted ended up slaughtered and ground into powder, to be poured into wounds to fester. Nevertheless he would have liked to stay in Smallville. James' presence was somehow soothing, as was the coziness of his den, with all its diffused light and leather chairs. But with the Mansion came Margaret the cleaning lady, and with her, her daughter, Deb. For some inane reason or other, Lex was loath to face the little girl. She was one of the very few people who liked him unconditionally, and he was afraid that she would somehow see what he had gone through, and what he had done himself, if he talked to her. He left Smallville on the morning following the evening he'd arrived and got two tickets for speeding on his way to Metropolis.

Driving was a way of running, too, he supposed.

Metropolis held no innocent girls with braces, but they had no private gardens nor butlers either. The treadmill in the gym in the penthouse basement was inferior to his own back yard, but it kept him busy. If he didn't feel like running he went swimming, and if he were feeling particularly violent and helpless, he would pound his knuckles black and blue against a boxing ball. He knew he was on some kind of edge, but knowing it contained the danger and made him accept his agitation as a passing thing.

All this exercise was great for his muscle tone; unfortunately he didn't supply those muscles with the diet they required to actually expand, and consequently he only became thinner. Lack of sleep did not effect him much; he'd never needed more than five, six hours a night, and did perfectly well on less. In the two weeks after his return from China he became physically fitter than he'd ever been before, and if his mind played tricks on him, it did not reflect on his body, apart from a certain skinniness.

However, his father either noticed the change in his face or his distraction, and arranged yet another psychiatrist to have a look at him. Of course Lex laughed at him, the first time he received a mail telling him to meet his new shrink the next morning at nine. Unfortunately, Lionel had managed to insert something written in tiny letters in his contract, and if he didn't meet the shrink, LuthorCorp automatically reverted back to its original founder. Lex didn't know if it was legally possible, but while he sicced one of his lawyers on it, he didn't have a choice but meet his appointment.

Lex had learned from his earlier mistakes. Fucking around with the psychiatrist only had him locked up and declared unfit for duty (or 'treated' in some way, say, by electro shock therapy), and while apparently most people on the verge of a breakdown wanted nothing more than a holiday far, far away from their current job, the thought of spending a week or more in complete mental and physical idleness made him feel sick. Being told to go and leave his company, his baby, to individuals more suitable to cope with the stress, like his father, would be yet another blow to his already battered ego. Fighting his shrink's attempts to uncover the damage to his psyche would result in unwanted situations.

Therefore he went willingly (smiling nastily as he found out how much trouble it had cost his father to find a shrink still willing to delve into his head, since shrinks who got involved with Luthor problems tended to have their own brain functions permanently stopped), and lent his full cooperation.

That is to say, he played with the man in a less obvious way than he used to. Lex was no stranger to psychology, and he was very much aware that he wasn't normal. After all, if he were normal, he'd have been stark raving mad, wouldn't he? Slip slip slide on that slanted surface of lunacy, instead of a firm stand. He wasn't normal, and so he was sane enough to regard both his own state of mind and that of his psychiatrist with studious interest. While the psychiatrist, a man called Saxon, with annoying glasses that reflected the light and magnified his eyes, analyzed Lex, Lex spent just as much time analyzing Saxon.

Saxon wanted Lex to talk about his traumatic experiences, so Lex talked about his traumatic experiences. He subtly reminded the man about patient-doctor confidence, and told him everything about his latest kidnapping. Except what truly bothered him. He didn't speak a word about his doubts whether he had cut up the right man—didn't mention, in fact, that whole little incident. That, he figured, was none of the man's business, and it wasn't as if he could assuage Lex's doubts.

Speaking about what it had felt like to be tied up, starved, cut with razors and experimented on with a lethal drug was surprisingly easy. Saxon didn't know jack shit about him, and Lex didn't have to be afraid the man would judge him or think he was weak. He had no trouble staying calm while he described Fu Yang sprinkling ground sheep bone (_one sheep jumping over the fence, two sheep jumping over the fence_) into his wounds, and he was curious whether the man could actually help him.

No, as it turned out. When Lex said he had trouble sleeping, Saxon prescribed sleeping pills, and taking those did not stop the nightmares, but it did stop him from waking up in the middle of them. When he complained to Saxon, the man gave him the same crap he'd heard a thousand times when he was fourteen: focus on your surroundings, take deep breaths, concentrate on the now, remember happy things, count sheep...

Lex nodded and smiled and privately thought the man was an asshole. He gently steered the man away from his recent misfortunes and hinted at an unhappy youth.

He had quite a nice time making up sob-stories from his childhood. Once, during such a story, he had one of those trembling episodes he'd had ever since his Phoenix Fire addiction—they were occurring less and less frequently, and grew less and less hefty, but every once in a while, especially when he was tired, they did happen—and Saxon jumped on that tremor as if it were a confession.

Lex spent an amusing session faking shivers whenever he went through a 'traumatic memory', and played with the psychiatrist for another four sessions before the man finally caught up with the game, and sent Lionel a mail (which Lex intercepted) proclaiming that "_A. Luthor is too intelligent to be made to tell anything he doesn't want to talk about, too well-versed in psychology to respond to general tricks, and too stubborn to realize he does have severe mental problems._' This only strengthened his opinion that the man was a washout and an asshole.

He also intercepted his father's reply, and snorted aloud as he read it: _'Mister Saxon, you have admitted to me in writing that my son bested you at your own job, that he is too intelligent for you to handle, and that he, in your opinion, has severe mental issues that you however have been unable to find and deal with in these past three weeks. Apparently I have approached the wrong man. Please consider our cooperation ended on this note_.'

In other words: _you have wasted my time and you're a moron_.

Sometimes, Lex felt a certain fondness for his father. They were more alike than he often thought. On the evening of that email Lionel invited him for dinner to talk over some business-related subjects, and it was a delightful dinner full of veiled insults and appreciated snark. When he left, Lionel told him to "Stop skipping meals. You're growing scrawny. It would be a shame if you had to have all your suits refitted." This, Lex gathered, was his father's way of telling him he was off the psychiatric hook.

Conviction that a psychiatrist could not set him straight proven, Lex decided to handle his situation as he saw fit himself, which was to say that he worked until he was too tired to continue, worked out until his body gave up on him, visited Chloe either before or after his work-out and let time do the rest of the healing.

Most of the time, he was pretty much alright. The uncertainty of Fu Yang's disfigurement gnawed at his conscience, but as long as he kept busy he had no problems functioning more or less normally. He actually didn't know how badly he'd been traumatized until he finally accepted Valerie Decan's invitation to come and see her at LuthorCare.

*

Valerie awaited him at the LC reception desk, her too-wide mouth stretching even wider as he approached her.

"Lex! At last! It's so good to see you!" she said, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. She took a step back, sizing him up. "You look good. But did you lose weight in China?"

She, Lex remembered with a certain trepidation, was also a psychologist. "It's good to see you too," he said, ignoring the weight remark like he had ignored his dad's meal-skipping comment. He hadn't lost weight, well, no more than he had after fasting for a week on that slab in Fengfei's basement, and he didn't skip meals. Muscles were heavier than fat. "I've read you achieved a great many positive results with the children."

She grinned and dropped the subject. "Oh yes! You remember little Emmy, of course? She's grown back a full half inch of hair by now. One point three centimeters in four weeks, that's the normal hair growth for an ordinary, healthy person."

"That's great."

"Yes, it is. The others are doing quite well, too. Only Tessa and Justin—he's the freckled boy, maybe you remember him?—are showing odd reactions to the treatment. Justin just doesn't grow any hair, and Tessa gets headaches. We're having her in the MRI right now. Do you mind coming along while I check on her? Brenda's performing the scan, but it's a new model and I…"

Lex held up his palms. "Sure, no problem. Brenda?" he asked as he followed her into the elevator.

"Doctor Brenda Staple. She's an intern, specializing in oncology. She makes GREAT ginger muffins."

"An oncologist?" Lex frowned. "Do you think the cancer has returned?"

"We hope not." She shrugged. "That's what we hope to find out." The elevator stopped on the second floor, admitting a bespectacled man. Valerie gave him a perfunctory smile that didn't reach her eyes. The man hastily looked away. They got off on the fourth floor.

"Who was that?" Lex asked. "I can't remember ever seeing him."

"Oh, he isn't staff," Valerie said. Her soft soles whispered over the blue linoleum. The whole level was done in different hues of blue, creating something that looked like a swimming pool. "I don't know his name. He's a relative of one of our patients, a brother, or uncle, or something. He's always complaining about things. To the right here. He's harmless, really," she continued, "but the first time I met him he thought I was a doctor and he started making a fuss about the way Sue was being treated. Sue being the related patient in question." She showed a glint of teeth. "I don't like it when people are impolite to me."

Lex smiled. He could well imagine the velvety way she had put mister relative in his place. "If he's a problem I can have him refused entrance."

"That won't be necessary. He's much better behaved already. Here we are." She halted at a blue door, the same color as the floor, and unhooked her badge from her belt. "You can come in, if you like. I'll only be a minute, but you can meet Brenda. She's a sweet girl, and if you met her you might remember her when she needs remembering."

Lex laughed. "You don't feel any shame using your acquaintance with me to your advancement or to the advancement of your friends, do you?"

She grinned. "Of course not. Should I?" She held the badge against an electronic eye and pushed the door open, revealing a small white room with several monitors and a desk pushed against a wall with a large window in it that oversaw another room containing the MRI Scanner.

In the MRI room were two people: a small girl in a light blue night shirt, who was sitting on the patient table, and a plump nurse with a dark brown bob. The girl was perhaps seven years old, and her feet hardly reached halfway the table. Lex remembered her only vaguely. The nurse, Brenda, was helping the girl lie down, and fastened straps around her thighs, waist and forehead. She was chatting merrily with the girl, and while Tessa didn't seem all that happy, she was docile enough.

Lex swallowed. "Why…" He swallowed again. His hands had grown ice cold in the space of five seconds. "Why the restraints? I had an MRI scan once; they didn't strap me down."

"Children squirm," Valerie explained. She waved at Brenda, who nudged the girl. Tessa waved back with one hand. Her arms were still free. "Forty-five minutes is a long time to lie completely still, especially for a small child. We restrain them so they keep still. Especially the first time; they often get scared of the big noisy machine, and if they start struggling we have to redo the entire test. Better to keep them immobile and be done with the whole thing as soon as possible."

She shot him a smile, then frowned. "Are you alright?"

Lex's eyes were glued to the nurse and the child in the other room. The nurse had picked up an injection needle and was speaking soothingly to the little girl, who had started to cry. Brenda's voice issued from the speaker, cheerful, understanding and firm: "I'm sorry, sweetie, it will be over in a moment. I just need to inject this into your arm—you remember what I told you about the fluid that colors your blood? So we can see if it flows right?"

The girl obviously remembered, but was no longer charmed by the idea at the sight of the needle. Her arms were still free, but the straps around her head and body made it impossible to do more than hold up her hands to ward off the injection.

Hey, it's a scared kid in an MRI scanner. Of course she's crying. It's no big deal.

Lex tried to curve his mouth into a smile, and to say that of course he was all right, but his face was no more than a slab of cold skin and meat, and he couldn't inhale the air he needed to speak.

"Lex?"

Brenda wiped the now bawling child's arm with antiseptic, her voice chattering through the intercom, saying it would only take a moment, see there it went, there, all finished, and was that so bad now?

_Inhale, _Lex told himself. _Really, inhale. Take a breath. _His chest was beginning to ache. Even though his hands were almost numb with cold he could feel them start to shake.

"Lex?" Valerie's fingers closed around his cheeks, turned his head away from the window, away from the small human being on the patient table. He gasped in a huge breath. "Damn it." She pressed a button, spoke into the microphone on the desk, "Brenda, I'm called away. Proceed as usual, I'll be back as soon as I can, and if you need me you can reach me on my beeper."

"That's unnecessary," Lex wanted to say, "You can stay here, it's ok, I'm fine," but he still couldn't find the breath to utter the words. He was breathing, but he still had trouble getting the rhythm right: now it all went in and in and in, and he couldn't make his lungs expel the air they had used.

"Come on," Valerie said. She grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the MRI monitor room, across the hall and into a room with a light blue door. Only a few TL lights were on in here; the room, some sort of lab, he identified hazily, was empty but for a few tables, four chairs stacked upside-down on those tables, some dusty glass cabinets and a water dispenser.

Valerie took one of the chairs off the table, flipped it and put it on the floor. "Sit," she said, and pushed him into it. "Put your head between your knees. Do you want a bag? I might find a bag somewhere…"

"No," he gasped. The blood rushing back to his head made him dizzy. "No, it's ok. I'll be fine. Just…give me a second, alright?"

To his immense relief, she didn't press the matter and gave him his second, about sixty of them as a matter of fact, before walking to the water dispenser and getting him a cup of water. He accepted it with a nod, wet his lips without drinking. He straightened up from his knees. Valerie was leaning against the table, legs crossed at the ankles. She was studying his face, her mouth half open to resume her questioning routine, but Lex carefully ignored her face and looked around.

"Where are we? What is this room?"

"This is a…test lab. Which, because it's on the fourth floor and we have a far better one on the fifth, is not in use."

"Why is there a water dispenser in an abandoned test lab?"

"Because this hospital spends your money as if there's no limit." She kept looking at his face. "What was that?" she repeated. "I'll tell you what it is," she answered her own question. "That was a panic attack. Why did it happen, what set it off? Tessa? The scanner?"

Lex stared at his knees. He was feeling sick, and if he looked her in the eye he was afraid she'd see exactly how sick. "It's nothing. It's over. I have them more often, when…after something's happened."

"Something?" Valerie asked.

He shrugged, took a sip of water. It swirled down into his stomach like acid, and he squeezed the cup so hard plastic squeaked and the water dripped onto the floor.

"Yes, I can see you're fine," Valerie said, voice level. "No one would think you'd just been gasping for oxygen. But I still think you need to talk about this—if not with me, then with someone else. This time, you were here. What if you get another one when you're alone in your office? Or in a meeting with the entire MT of a multinational?"

"As long as they keep the gurneys locked away, don't pull any needles and keep the scalpels under the table, I guess I'll be fine," Lex said.

"Scalpels," Valerie repeated. "Needles." She shook her head. "What happened to you in China?"

"Oh," said Lex, "the usual. Torture, experimentation..." He kept his tone light but his stomach rolled again, and to his deep chagrin his lips and fingers started to tremble too. He pressed his lips together and balled his hands to fists—forgetting that he was still holding the plastic cup. It burst with a soft crunch and spilled its contents on the floor.

Valerie nodded. "Can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk. Why?"

"Good. We're going to my office. Do you want coffee?"

His stomach coiled at the thought. "No thanks."

"Tea? It will settle your stomach."

This woman could really read him far too well. He nodded.

"Come, then." She unlocked the door, waited until he'd climbed back to his feet and preceded him to the elevator.

"What about your little patient?"

"She'll be occupied for the next 45 minutes," Valerie said airily. The elevator had miraculously remained on this floor; it opened the moment she pressed the button. "Brenda will look after her. You're more important right now."

"I feel honored," he said sarcastically, and then kept his mouth shut while they rode to the 21st floor. Valerie, while he could feel her glance like that warm ray he'd imagined she had when he'd just first met her, kept silent as well. Gradually, his fingers stopped shaking, as he knew they would. His stomach still felt tender, but his lungs functioned according to desire. If anything, he felt rather stupid about the whole episode.

"Let me grab some mugs, will you?" Valerie said before dashing into the cantina. She was back before he could saunter off, as if she'd known he'd run if she left him on his own too long. Lex did not know whether to be amused or annoyed by her foresight.

The short respite had done much to calm him down, enough, in fact, to make him think about finding a way to get out of this undoubtedly unpleasant little talk. As long as he didn't make associations with knives, needles and ropes, he'd be fine. Describing what had happened to him in the basement of Fengfei's mansion...what good could possibly come of that? He'd told Saxon, and Saxon hadn't been able to work any miracles. He just wanted to forget about it. Remembering it could only make him feel worse.

Thus he reasoned, and by the time he and Valerie arrived at her office, she with a large stone mugs containing hot water in each hand (she must have stolen someone else's hot water), he was fully on the defense, fully controlled, wholly opposed to the whole idea of cooperating. He had always taken care of himself. He was not going to let one stubborn woman and a weird reaction to a girl disappearing into an MRI scanner render him a goddamned mental patient.

"Earl Gray?" Valerie asked. "You can sit down, if you want. I'm going to make you talk whether you act defensive and stand against the door with your arms crossed or whether you're sitting in a chair. I also have English Tea Blend, if you'd prefer that."

"Got any Darjeeling?" Lex asked challengingly.

She riffled through her collection of tea bags. "Umm...no, I don't,...yes, I do! You don't take sugar, do you?"

"I thought you should drink sweet tea when you're in shock," Lex shot back.

Her mouth quirked with amusement. "You're going to make this as difficult as possible, aren't you?"

"I don't think it's necessary. I'm perfectly fine. Besides," he felt his mouth stretch into a grin that was far more cynical than he had intended, "once I get started on my traumatic experiences in the past few months, we might be here until ten tonight."

"Is that so?" Valerie asked pleasantly. She gave him his tea and two sugar sticks and a spoon. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

_I should just drink my tea and go. Say nothing, just drink, flirt, and go._ But he said, "Well, you're aware of most of it...The sudden and dramatic growth of hair—by far the worst of the calamities that have befallen me—the loss of healing power...the resulting horrors of flu and dismal healing after being kidnapped and shot...five times...Let's see, what's more? Pneumonia? I know, I know, it's nothing to ordinary people, but it was quite traumatic to me. What else? Oh yes, the betrayal of my girl friend—that was rather unpleasant, too. I think you were aware of that fact? Don't worry, we kissed and made up. Rape. And finally more abduction, torture and the testing of illegal and addictive substances on my poor and helpless body. There, now you know all about it." He took a sip of scalding tea. It sloshed against his upper lip in his shaking hand. He hastily cupped it with his other hand, steadying it.

Valerie only nodded.

"So?" Lex challenged. He put the mug down on her desk.

"You need help."

"I don't need people digging into my head dragging out my psyche and telling me to do yoga exercises. I've already done that. It doesn't help."

"I have no intention to dig into your head." She sighed, and met his eyes, the warm brown of hers absorbing all the anger his were shooting. "You don't have to talk to me, if you don't want to. But I very much want to help you, and I do think you need help. You said you already tried seeing a psychologist?"

"Psychiatrist," Lex corrected. "When I open up for mental ransacking I go all the way. The man was an incompetent moron. Look," he put the tea down on her desk, "I appreciate you're trying to help me, but trust me, the best way for me to deal with my experiences is forget about them. That's always worked fine."

"Always, huh?…" She sighed, stirred her tea. After a moment, Lex picked up his own mug again. No sense in letting a perfectly good cup of tea go to waste. They sat, unspeaking, sipping tea, until Valerie spoke again. "I will not push you," she said. "If I know you as well as I think I do, pushing you will only make you push back. But I do warn you, as a friend, and as a doctor, too. You may think that you've got everything safely locked away, but the episode you just had shows that it's very close beneath the surface, and might come out at any moment."

"I do believe you're right," Lex said. "Who am I to deny your professional knowledge? But it does. Not. Help. Talking about it doesn't make it better. I've tried that, with Saxon." He sneered. "He gave me sleeping pills."

She smiled. "Did you actually let him do his job or did you spin him about?"

He looked up. "Excuse me?"

"Lex, you don't talk to people. You act out scenes. It's one of the thing I find so intriguing about you—and your father both."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." But he did. Because he KNEW he had made it Saxon impossible to help him, because the one thing that bugged him was not the kidnapping or the torture or the addiction…

"I think you do," Valerie said pleasantly. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. But again, I won't push you. When you want to talk, I'm here."

Lex said nothing.

"Tell me this, at least," she continued, "did you tell Chloe? Ah, you didn't. Perhaps you should talk to her. That might help."

"I don't see how it could."

"You trust her. Don't you? She seemed like a sweet, intelligent woman. If there's anyone who'd…"

"She's still recuperating," Lex interrupted her. "From the injuries she sustained when she was in China with me."

"Injuries?" Valerie exclaimed. "Oh my god, is she alright?" Lex almost frowned in disbelief. After all, Lionel had managed to keep most of the rescue out of the papers, but Chloe's wounds had been wildly speculated about by the Daily Planet. Then he remembered Valerie didn't read newspapers or watch the news, so it was quite possible she had missed the entire thing.

He chuckled. "Yes. Well, no. But she will be."

"What happened?"

"She had a bad fall. Injured her leg and side. Muscle damage. She's been promised full recovery, though."

"Poor thing!"

"Yes," Lex agreed. "I hate to see her like that. Chloe's very…well, you've met her. She isn't the kind of person that likes to keep still for long periods of time. So perhaps you can understand that the last thing I want to do is burden her with my problems. They are, after all, just that: my problems. I'll cope. I always do."

She nodded, slowly. She might as well have shaken her head.

"I have to go," Lex said.

"Can't you wait until Tessa's done with her scan? It's only…ten more minutes. I'd like to show you the results from the treatment—I promise I won't nag about your…problems, if that makes you uneasy. Or have I scared you off with my gentle urgings?"

In truth, he wanted nothing more than spin some sort of lie and walk out of here, but her words stung him, and he shook his head. No one should think Lex Luthor was a coward who ran from a woman's sympathy. "No, I'm at your disposal for another hour. Then I DO have to leave, though; I'm expecting a phone call from Russia at four."

"Good!" Her delight made him feel guilty, as did the way she squeezed his arm before she preceded him to the door of her office. At the touch of her fingers, he suddenly realized with a jolt that he hadn't had sex with her, or with any other woman than Chloe, for over three months. And none at all for the last month or so. He hadn't even thought about sex these last few weeks, let alone practiced it.

_Why hello there!_ His libido greeted him with enthusiasm. _It's been a long time, Lex!_

And here he'd been thinking he was having a hard time, before—even if, of course, he was doing fine, really.

TBC


	25. Chapter 24

Twenty-four: Breakdown

The combination of too little sleep, too much working out, no sex, and a nagging fear at the back of your mind, Lex decided, made for a lousy disposition. He'd been happier with only his trauma's to keep him company.

Masturbation didn't cut it; it wasn't so much the physical release he needed as the need to sink into someone and lose himself there.

Chloe was out of the question. He'd hurt her enough, and even imagining 'fessing up to her that he got hard at the smell of coffee (coffee: trigger association with Chloe. Entering a cafeteria had never been such a turn-on before) made him wince. Talking about sex with her lying there all pierced and broken would be too hypocritical for words, so he didn't, and avoided hugging her too warmly for fear of showing her how badly he wanted her.

At times, he missed being single. So maybe he'd been a slut, but it sure would have been nice to draw his little black leather booklet and select one of the many available women from its tightly scribbled pages.

He didn't, though. He took the booklet out of its drawer once, but did not even open it. Those times were over. It wouldn't be fair to Chloe, and it would be a weakness to give in to a simple thing as lust. He'd managed to keep his hands off of Valerie at the hospital, and he resolved to keep them to himself—literally—for as long as he needed.

His dreams had now become a thing of Daliesque horror. Smiling, knife-wielding torturers, cut-up and bleeding dead business associates, spunky teenagers and blonde lawyers populated his nightmares, the whole of it spiced up with a healthy dose of terror, a pinch of helplessness and a spoonful of unbridled, unresolved eroticism.

Lovely.

Really, he was surprised he didn't end up looking like Christian Bale in 'The Machinist'. The thing was, he still looked pretty damn good. Sure, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his face had become narrower (without, unfortunately, giving him the jutting cheekbones and razor-sharp jaw line so admired in the romantic drivel Chloe was reading.), but he had by no means gained the looks of a zombie. Apparently he'd spent too many years pretending he was fine for the truth to shatter his mask and show the wreckage beneath. He guessed he should be thankful for that.

So he hadn't lost his slick, smooth appearance—had, in fact, only become more slick and smooth since he'd returned from China. What he had lost, he noticed after an evening out with his old study pals John Hartlow and Felix Brockx, was his ability to drink without feeling the effects.

He met them after seeing Chloe after work, already dead beat but looking forward to an evening in which he could be annoyed by John's bad sense of humor and Felix' child-rearing stories instead of his own capacity for creating night terrors. According to old customs, they occupied a booth at the Unicorn and ordered every kind of a certain drink on the liquor list. The previous time John had ordered cocktails. This time Felix ordered seventeen types of whiskey.

Lex was completely out after five.

He woke up after four hours of dreamless sleep when John shook him by the shoulder—or at least, passed from unconsciousness into some muddled form of awareness.

"W-what?" When he sat up, his cheek left the leather seat of the bench it had been stuck to with the sound of a piece of duct tape pulled loose from the wall.

John was grinning. His soft, moist face was flushed; beard growth shadowed his jaws, chin and upper lip. In the dim light of the back of the bar, where Lex found himself, to his surprise, his eyes seemed black with the dilation of his pupils. When he spoke alcohol fumes issued from his mouth like smoke from a dragon's snout.

"Wakey, wakey, Lex. Time to go home."

He rubbed his eyes. Music was pounding like a heartbeat, but he had slept through it soundly, and now he was groggy with both whiskey and sleep. "What time is it?" His throat was hoarse with cigarette smoke.

"Almost six."

"Six!…Why didn't you wake me up? Hell, when did I fall asleep?" He scrabbled upright. "Where's Felix?"

John thumbed over his shoulder. "Back there, in our booth." He grinned again. "We both figured, when you keeled over…well, you know, that you probably needed the rest."

"Keeled over?" Lex repeated, aghast. Luthors did not keel over, not after a few whiskeys. They were better trained than that.

"Yup. You look better now. Tough week?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"Or the effects of your stunts in China?"

A feeling of dread settled over Lex. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what you told us about that…Fu Yeng guy, with his scalpels…" He mimicked a few slashes into the air—mimicked, with rather frightening accuracy, the mirrored characters of Fu Yang's name— "and how he put sheep meat into your wounds and all that. I mean, wow, Lex," he shook his head, "that's heavy stuff."

"I told you that?" Lex murmured weakly.

John lipped a Camel out of an almost empty packet. "Mmm." He lit the cigarette with a flick of a zippo, then took it from between his lips, turned it around and poked the filter against Lex's mouth. Lex accepted it like a pill and took a healthy drag. Most clubs were smoke-free these days. The Unicorn laughed at smoking fees. Their customers enjoyed combining as many vices as they could, and gladly paid to do so. At times like these, Lex was awfully glad they did. He watched as John lit another cigarette for himself.

He could not remember discussing his holiday stories with the Dynamic Duo. He couldn't even imagine WANTING to. Hell, he'd gone out with them to forget about that whole mess.

"All I remember is Felix talking about his daughter." Some people bragged about their sexual conquest when drunk. Felix bragged about the number of words his toddler could say.

John snickered. "Yeah, I think you really shocked him when you started talking about being slashed to ribbons by a maniac right after he'd told us he bought a rabbit for his kid, and how sweet she was with it." His mouth widened so far even his back teeth showed, but then the grin weakened, softened, and even though his eyes were almost swimming in alcohol they regarded Lex with genuine concern. "Last thing you said before you put your head on your arms and dropped off was how you didn't sleep anymore. _Contradictio in termine_; irresistible for a lawyer. So we let you sleep. Guess you needed it. But let me ask you, buddy; how are you? Really? How're you holding up? Because if this is a one-time get-drunk-and-sleep-it-off thing, I'm cool with it, but if you need help…well, I just want you to know you're welcome to come and crash at my place anytime you want. Since your girl's sick, right? If it's company you need, or…What I mean, if you don't want to be alone, mi casa es su casa. After all," the grin was back, if a little wobbly with alcohol-induced sentiment, "I'm only able to afford it because I work at your company."

And this, Lex thought, was why he still hung out with John Hartlow, no matter how much of an insufferable yup he was. The man was like a brownie: all slick icing over tough cookie on the outside, but soft and slushy on the inside.

"Thanks," he said, smiling, and raised his cigarette in a thank-you gesture. "Appreciate it."

"I have the entire Lord of the Rings collection," John said eagerly. "Special edition."

Lex repressed a shiver. "Does that one include all the missing sex scenes?"

"No sex scenes in Lord of the Rings, man. That'd be heresy. I also have all the old Star Trek movies. And one that DOES have all the missing sex scenes. But if you don't mind I'd rather not watch that with another man."

Lex barked out a laugh at the mental image of him and John lying on a couch watching a bad Captain Kirk clone go at it with some random alien beauty. "The feeling's mutual. Still, thanks for the invitation. I'm not sure I'll take you up on it, but if I need to, I'll let you know." He rubbed his face again—his smooth, cool face, devoid of stubble and razor burns. His eyes were gritty, but despite the alcohol he was quite awake. Alert, and rather ashamed.

"Sorry for falling asleep on you guys."

John snorted. "More booze for us. Don't worry about it. 'sides, I'm sure Felix was happy you didn't spoil his memories of his daughter and her rabbit with your horror stories of torture and pain." He exhaled half of his cigarette through his nose, regarding Lex with half-lidded eyes. Finally he looked away, and when he spoke again it wasn't to voice the questions Lex was fearing. "Club's closing, though. Are you as drunk as me or can you drive home?"

"I'm afraid I'm completely sober."

"Need company changing that condition? I can go on drinking for a while. If I stop, I'll have about half an hour before I crash, though."

Lex smiled. The best people to go out with for drinks were those who knew their limitations up the final minute. "I think I'm ok. I'll leave you to your hangover. I thought you said you had a girlfriend."

"Yeah. Chrissie. She's in Copenhagen at the moment, though. So there's nowhere I have to go and no one to miss me at the moment." He considered. "Unless she's going to call me, of course. Which she might. She probably will, at some ungodly hour like ten, or eleven."

"I'll be ok," Lex assured him. "Do you want me to drop you off at your place?"

"Do you know where I live?"

Lex didn't. He really hoped John did, in the state he was in. The other man stared blearily at the smoke circling up from his cigarette, finally shook his head and crushed the stub in an ash tray. "Nah. I'll walk. The cool air will do me good. And if it doesn't, at least I won't puke in your car. Felix might like a ride, though. His wife won't let him drive when he's going out with us. Or with me, rather."

"She sounds like a sensible woman."

"Sure…" John drawled, but he didn't say sensible equaled boring, like he might have a few months ago. His girlfriend probably was a sensible girl, too. Maybe she was rubbing off on him.

_We're getting old_, Lex thought, _old, responsible and boring, _and it occurred to him that he always thought that when he hung out with these guys. He took a final drag from his cigarette, snubbed it, and got to his feet. "Let's go then. Pick up Felix. Are you sure you'd rather walk?"

John said he was sure. Together, they made their way back to where Felix sat bobbing his head to the music, eyes closed and hands folded around his last quarter inch of Glenmorangie. He started awake when John lovingly stroked his hair and called him his little father-figure. Felix asked Lex if he were ok. Lex said he was. As they split up at the door, Lex and Felix heading for Lex's car one street away, and John back to his apartment on foot, John wrapped his arms around Lex's ribcage in a bear hug and reminded him that his casa was Lex's casa, if he needed it. Felix immediately offered Lex the same hospitality.

Even though he knew he wouldn't take either of them up on it, Lex still smiled all the way back to his penthouse, pleasantly surprised at both of them, and especially John. Whenever people he had never considered as more than acquaintances showed him signs of selfless friendship, part of him stood amazed.

Apparently he did know how to choose his friends, after all.

*

Those four blissful hours of sleep at the bar had given him a boost no amount of running could have offered. He didn't sleep when he came home, but apart from the last remnant of the alcohol buzz he wasn't feeling tired at all. After a long, hot shower, a cup of coffee and two glasses of orange juice he decided that today was a good day to have breakfast with Chloe. It was early, and it might be Saturday, but she could sleep late every day—thus he soothed his instantly cringing conscience—and he hadn't had a meal with her in ages.

For her consideration he did all his shopping on food, dragging out buying rolls and croissants, fruit, cream, whole butter and the like until the clock struck seven-thirty, and drove slowly to her place instead of behaving like a speed maniac as he usually did.

He rang before he let himself in, and found her sleepy-eyed but awake, holding out her arms to him when he poked his head around the door.

"Lex!"

"I come bearing breakfast," he said, slipping inside and holding out the basket with goods like an offering."

"You do? How sweet of you! And how…early." She grinned, rubbed her eyes, then seemed to realize something. "I'm not even washed yet. Nor brushed." She leaned back when he tried to kiss her.

"No sense brushing your teeth before breakfast." Damn. He'd forgotten about feminine hygiene, and how rabid they were about maintaining it. "Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom? Or shall I come back later, when…"

"Lex. Don't be an idiot." She shot him a stern glance and pushed her duvet away. "You're going to stay right here and start up your lovely coffee machine. I can walk—well, I can move. A little." Pulling her bandaged leg along with her hands as if it were a dead thing, she moved to the edge of her bed. "I am not going to spoil this glorious idea of yours with my helplessness." She eased her bad leg to the ground and reached for her crutches.

"Can I help you with anything?"

She hissed as she pushed herself up, face drawn with pain, but once she was standing she smiled sunnily, and shook her head. "Nope. Yeah, coffee. And oooooh! Is that fresh cream? I have a beater somewhere over there in that closet. I'll be back in ten minutes."

On crutches she could move agilely enough.

Lex busied himself setting out breakfast while Chloe splashed, hummed, cursed and clattered around in the bathroom. Once, after a particularly violent crash, she called "I'm ok, I'm ok!" through the door, which Lex had just been ready to open and sweep in through to pick her dead body off the floor.

It took her fifteen minutes instead of ten, but he was willing to forgive her when she hobbled out again, dressed, hair wet and smelling of Fa.

"Tadaaa!"

"You're alive!"

She pulled a face. "Yeah, that was my hair dryer."

"That explains the wet hair."

"Yes." She moved back to the bed and deftly pulled herself up. "It's dead. Which is good, because it was a nasty old thing that stank of burnt hair and overheated metal. I'll ask Lois to get me another one, with styling options. So!" she clapped her hands and stared up at him expectantly, eyes sparkling. "What did you get me?"

"Uh…" he pressed the button of the coffee machine. "I didn't want it to get cold," he said defensively as she mock-glared at him. "I have…let's see…wait." He pulled out the extractable table top over her lap, and began putting things on it. "I have croissants and rolls. And custard cakes. And cream, jam, and salt butter. That low-life vegetable guy didn't have any strawberries…"

"In winter. For shame!"

"In what way is it being winter related to the availability of strawberries?" Lex wondered. He handed Chloe a plate.

"I don't know. The fact that the ground is frozen and covered in snow?"

"I don't see any snow. Besides, it's winter here, but it's summer in another part of the world, so if there are no strawberries here, they still grow somewhere else. Breakfast just isn't complete without strawberries. So technically, this breakfast is incomplete, for which I apologize profoundly."

"I guess we'll just have to make do," Chloe said regretfully.

"I got us some fruit salad instead."

Chloe grinned. Widely. "Come here," she said, spreading her arms. Lex gave her a careful hug, kissed her, then pulled away before he could give in to his desire to rip her clothes off and accidentally tear her stitches. "It's lovely. Thanks, this was a great idea."

"I thought you'd gone out with some friends last night," she continued, when they were eating a minute later.

"I did."

"It didn't get late?"

"Mm."

"What? Didn't you have fun?"

"Oh, no, it was great. You should meet John and Felix once." He grinned. "You'd like them. Or maybe not like them, not John, in any case, he's…not exactly your kind of guy, I think. But they're nice guys all the same. Maybe I should organize something, get everyone together and introduce you."

Chloe smiled with her mouth full. She swallowed and asked, "Introduce me as what?"

"Uh, as my girlfriend? Not as…not to introduce you as anything! Just to meet people I like! And dislike, as those are often more interesting."

"Does that mean you actually dislike most of your friends?"

"I don't dislike my friends. I dislike some of my associates, especially when they pretend they are my friends."

Chloe smiled. "Then why don't you bar them from socializing events?"

"Because, like I said," he peeled the crispy crust from a croissant, ending up with the soft dough inside, "people I don't like are much more interesting to observe than those I do like."

"You've lost me," Chloe confessed.

"Well, when I don't like people, changes are they don't like me either, right?"

"I guess…"

"So that means they hang out with me despite the fact that they loathe me, or are envious of me, or simply cannot stand me. It happens, I know it's unbelievable, but it does happen. And I find it the height of fun to try and ferret out exactly what it is they hate most about me, and use that against them, and see how long they keep hanging around."

"That's mean!"

"No, it isn't," Lex said smugly. "I call that kind of psychology 'Hunting Treasure Hunters'. The only reason they associate with me is because they think they can use me to get something, be it a position, wealth, or renown. I don't like being used. On the other hand, if they can beat me at my own game, they deserve to profit from what I have to offer. Everyone's happy!"

Chloe shook her head. "You're weird. So it might happen that you reward a completely insufferable leech simply because he's had the stamina to swallow your insults?"

Lex thought back on several highly competent but revolting individuals working in various LuthorCorp branches. "Yes. Yes, that might happen, yes."

"And this John person? And…what's his name, Felix? Are they that kind of unlikable non-friends too?"

"No." He smiled in remembrance. "John and Felix are my drinking buddies. They profit from me, but I'm perfectly fine with that. They're…uncomplicated."

Chloe took a sip of coffee. "Sounds like you're having one-night stands with them."

"I don't have one-night stands with men," Lex shot back. "Not with Felix anyway. He's married and he's got a kid. And John's…kind of slimy. Even if he were a woman I doubt I'd want to touch him with a ten-foot pole. No thanks. I'll stick to women—and to you, in particular."

"Oh wow, was this a declaration of love?"

"I don't do declarations of love," Lex shrugged. "But I can get that monkey if you need one."

Chloe sighed. "Foiled again."

"Aww." He leaned over, careful not to touch her leg, and kissed her nose. "I do confess to liking you very much, little reporter girl."

Chloe blinked. "Is that an Elvis impersonation?"

To which Lex choked on his roll with jam, because his imagination immediately presented him with the picture of a bald Elvis—and also because Luthors never, ever, did Elvis impersonations.

*

That weekend gave Lex the idea that things were finally beginning to look up. He and Chloe spent a few hours talking, joking and sniping like they used to do; they watched two movies (one Saturday afternoon, after which he went home so she could do her own things and he could check his mail; one Sunday evening during dinner), and all that time China was far away from his thoughts. He even managed to sleep for six hours in the night from Saturday on Sunday, and even if he did wake up covered in sweat, he was still happy with the result.

Lana came to visit on Sunday after dinner, and because things with Lana were always a little awkward Lex beat a controlled but nevertheless hasty retreat.

That evening he got an email from Crystal Shanyuang, asking how he was doing and whether he knew anything about the Shueng business.

_Mr. McCarthy keeps me updated, _she wrote, _but nothing seems to happen. As far as I've understood it Mayor Fengfei has been accused of manslaughter and fraud, but I have no clue whether he'll be prosecuted or not. Do you have any more news?_

_No_, Lex thought, closing his email application. _I don't._

On Monday morning he woke at four, panting with fear, unable to distinguish whether the moisture on his chest and belly was perspiration or blood.

*

Lex spent the morning and most of the afternoon of that Monday in his office, participating in a streamed-media meeting with five different CEOs across the world. He had a quick business lunch with the man who received regular reports from Dr. Potter, the man responsible for Lex's short period of hair-growth, and, more important, the man who was responsible for the death of a 7-year-old girl. Potter was now a doctor in Africa. According to his correspondent, he was doing rather well. Despite some kind of ugly rash he seemed to have picked up from the locals.

Whenever he thought of Doctor Potter, no longer an important scientist at LuthorCare but a simple doctor at a filthy clinic in Africa, a small vindictive smile broadened Lex's mouth. True justice always made him happy, especially if he were the one to deal it.

After that short break it was back to the meeting, and when he finally stumbled out of his office, eyes prickling after watching his screen for so long, and head numb with attempting to unravel five different accents of English, he almost thought he might be able to go straight to bed after dinner, and sleep through sheer exhaustion.

As he entered the hallway, Fu Yang turned around, scalpel in hand, and faced him with a polite smile.

No.

Not Fu Yang.

As soon as his heart had climbed down his throat again, and resumed a rhythm approaching its usual beat, he remembered. Fu Yang was gone, dead, lost, whatever; this man was Seiichi Tsuzuki, part of the delegation from Naga Enterprises Japan. Lionel had sent him a memo regarding their visit; he must have concluded his meeting with Tsuzuki only minutes ago. He was not holding a razorblade but a silver pen, and his features, while Asian, were not at all like Fu Yang's hated face.

"Tsuzuki-san," he managed, forcing himself to keep on breathing, pasting a responding smile on his face.

Tsuzuki bowed. "Mister Luthor," he said, his pronunciation of both the R and the L very precise and correct. "How fortunate to meet you. I had understood you were otherwise engaged."

Lex's heartbeat slowed a little more. The business dance, with its intricate patterns of lies, half-truths, promises and etiquette soothed him like a lullaby. "I was," he lied smoothly. "I only just arrived from Massachusetts. My meeting there ended early because one of my hosts had a personal emergency…How are you, Tsuzuki-san?" He easily fell into step with the man. Tsuzuki made no move to introduce his colleagues, who followed him like gray shadows in measured suits, so Lex did no more than nod at them before turning his attention back to Tsuzuki and listened to his views on Metropolis.

He cared little about how Tsuzuki fared, truth be told. While he conversed with the man on autopilot, and greeted his father when Lionel joined them a moment later, his head was reeling. This really was becoming a problem. His legs were still shaky with the shock he'd received when projecting Fu Yang's figure over this man's. The weekend had gone so well he'd thought he was over it, but now his peace of mind was shot to hell once more.

He almost started when Lionel addressed him. "We're going for a drink, Lex, to celebrate our cooperation." It somewhat belatedly occurred to Lex that he hadn't asked if said cooperation had been established. Apparently it had. He faked another smile, already knowing what would follow. "Since you are here, would you care to join us? I've booked a table at Swans at eight."

"I'd be delighted," Lex droned. There was no other reply. He couldn't be less delighted in his life. Tsuzuki did, in fact, resemble Fu Yang a little, if only in height, stature and coloring. Whenever he looked at him after focusing on something else, a little jolt passed through Lex's heart, like a short burst of electricity. His subconscious was entirely too eager imagining it was _him_, and spurred his body to adrenalin-pumping panic with each glance.

Rhinos could die of adrenalin rush, Lex knew. He felt his heart give three, four hard throbs before settling again as he sat down across Tsuzuki in the LuthorCorp lounge, and wondered if it could kill him as well.

*

That evening, with the drinking and the business dinner at Swans, was one of the most exhausting, frustrating events in Lex's life.

Sitting at a table with a man his imagination insisted was Fu Yang, was unpleasant. Seeing the man cut steak with a knife made him even less comfortable. When one of Tsuzuki's associates turned to be unable to distinguish the L from the R his misery was complete.

Whenever he thought he'd become accustomed to the company, and his insane imagination had conceded to reality, some detail would fling him right back into his delusion, and even while his panic never lasted longer than a fraction of a second, it was enough to wring him dry like a sponge.

Like a sponge, he lost water in quantities. That entire dinner was eaten with an awareness of damp armpits, sweaty spine and clammy palms. His tongue, on the other hand, was hardly able to gather enough moisture to talk. He drank a lot of wine, and water, and coffee and more wine, but no matter how much he drank, his body refused to relax.

When he finally dragged himself home, excusing himself to the slightly inebriated Japanese and his steel-eyed father, he was shivering in his moist shirt. Not all of the shivering was caused by cold, however. He couldn't recall ever being so furious with himself before.

_What the hell is wrong with me! This is crazy! He's not even fucking CHINESE!_ He flung his jacket and shirt into the bathroom, and almost hung himself with his tie before he remembered he should take that off _before_ the shirt. The man glaring back at him in the mirror was flushed with anger and embarrassment, nose and cheeks shining with perspiration. He had to restrain himself from smashing his fist into that image.

The torso beneath the flushed face was well-toned if spare, pale, with only a few faded bullet scars on his chest, shoulder and arm. Not even a hint of knife wounds. If he looked very, very hard, he might detect the silvery remnants of the signature on his belly, but those could only be seen from a few inches distance.

"So why are you being such a cowardly BITCH about this, huh?" he asked aloud. The need to hit something was so strong he had to clench his fingers into his palms. "Isn't it enough that that son of a whore maimed you? Are you so anxious to have it repeated that you keep imagining he's here to do it AGAIN?"

His fist was at the same level as his eyes when he snatched back control, hissing in a breath through clenched teeth.

It would not do to bang up his interior. He kind of liked this mirror, and he liked a splinter-free bathroom. Additionally, he was sure his father interrogated his cleaning staff. If he found out he'd gone back to smashing his furniture and glassware he'd have another Saxon assigned to him so fast Lex would wish he was still in China. No, he shouldn't beat up his bathroom. Not when there was a perfectly fine gym down in the cellar.

Lex shrugged into a T-shirt and sweat pants, put on sneakers and jogged all the way down, far too pent up to wait for the elevator. The gym was closed; he had to open it with his smartcard. No one was inside; the rich and worthless had other things to do late at night. In the gloom, the metal on the running, crunching, lifting and stretching equipment shone unidentifiable and torture rack-like.

Another jolt of adrenaline made Lex's heart quake, and he slapped at the light buttons to banish the darkness. The white, bright light was hardly an improvement. The gym seemed very large and ominous, filled only with tools.

_Deal with it, _Lex thought, and slammed the door closed behind him. He wasted no time with running but walked straight up to the punching bag in the corner. A note attended him on the fact that donning gloves was recommended for using the punching bag and the boxing ball, and that tape could be found in the closet to the left of the showers. Lex ignored the plaque. If he ever had the chance to face Fu Yang he wouldn't need gloves or tape either.

He went in a straight line from door to bag, that hung large and square from the ceiling, and when he swung his right arm for the first hit his face split in a wide grin.

And god! it hurt, but it felt SO GOOD finally lashing out at something, to let GO, that he threw himself into it with full abandon. If he closed his eyes he could easily imagine he wasn't pummeling a bag filled with sawdust but a body, with organs, and blood, and bones—bones that so easily separated when cut with a scalpel, blood that sprayed and pooled, organs that flattened under the blow of a fist, and a body that fell, and broke, and bled out…

He pounded away until his arms began to hurt, and then he pounded away for another five minutes, until his wrists, his knuckles, and his elbows started to ache under the strain. He bit through it, kept hitting at the bag, until finally the pain turned to agony, his flesh split, and he slammed his bloody fists into Fu Yang, yelling at the top of his lungs...and then collapsed on the ground, sobbing.

Maybe it was purifying, crying. Maybe it was a sign of acceptance, of closure. But when it didn't stop after ten minutes, and when he noticed that even beating his own arms to a pulp hadn't done anything to burn out the rage that had been consuming him, he forced himself to stop. Of course, that didn't work. He never cried, and now he had started, something inside of him decided it was long overdue and quite necessary to clean his ducts. Crying pissed him off. If it had a reason, he didn't mind shedding a tear or two; a decorative, controlled display of pain or sadness, but this kind of helpless, torrential, snot-producing outbursts frightened and dismayed him.

He had thought he'd be done with them after his last breakdown in December. After all, he'd been shot five times, and sick, and pretty much fucked-up overall. This time, there was no reason for tears. He hadn't been hurt, at least not badly, he'd beaten his addiction, he was safe, Chloe was safe. If Fu Yang hadn't died in the halls of the temple, at least Lex had had his revenge on him, so why the HELL was he sitting here like some fairy-tale princess abandoned on the night of the ball?

It took him another ten minutes before he finally stopped boiling over, but he felt like a pot left on the fire to simmer; just a jar and he'd start spilling again.

He removed himself from the gym, grateful no one else had decided a late-night exercise was in order, snuck up the stairs and was so moved by the sight of his own apartment he almost burst into tears again.

This was ridiculous. How was he supposed to function if he leaked like a broken drainage pipe?

Downing two glasses of Lagavulin didn't really help, since the alcohol only made his eyes tear worse, but at least it unclenched his guts and enabled him to swallow the lump in his throat.

_She was right_, he realized with chagrin. _I do need help_. He checked his watch; it was ten seventeen. Late, but not too late, especially if she was still at the LC building. Since he still didn't know her number by heart--perhaps had consciously made an effort NOT to

remember it, he selected her name from his contact list and dialed.

She picked up just before the voicemail kicked in. "Lex?"

"Hey." Tears rose in his throat and he brutally forced them down with another swallow of whiskey. "Are you…" he cleared his throat. "Are you at the hospital? Are you busy?"

"I'm on my way home, and I'm stuck behind an overturned truck." Annoyance made her sound sarcastic. "Don't you think it's amazing that I spent my entire life trying to heal people and feel nothing but murderous rage when some idiot falls asleep behind the wheel and forces me to wait in a jam while the fire brigade saw his mangled body out of the twisted remains of his car?"

"I feel your pain," Lex said with a trembling kind of grin he was immensely glad he couldn't see.

"So. Why'd you call?"

"I…" and then his voice just dried up and he couldn't get anything out anymore. His eyes grew hot again, and he blinked furiously.

"Lex? Are you alright?"

"I…" Well THIS sucked. He clawed his fingers into his thigh, and squeaked as his split knuckles burst open again. "I…cry," he finally spat out, and almost tossed his phone into the hearth with embarrassment.

"You're crying?" No pity or sympathy, just professional interest.

"Well, not now, it's finally stopped, but…" His voice quivered like a twelve-year-old's. He pressed his lips firmly together to keep from wailing _I don't know what to dooooo!_

Luthors did not wail. They always knew what to do. They most certainly did not call their psychoanalyst friends and literally cried for help.

"But you're not the crying type and it upsets you," Valerie stated calmly.

Lex drank more whiskey. _Right on, sister._

"Lex, I want to help you, I really do. But you need to talk to me. You have to give me SOMETHING."

"I told you everything I…"

"You gave me a list, and then you shut down on me," she corrected. "I remember. If I'd started ticking that list you'd have bolted in addition to shutting down."

Lex wiped his nose. He poured himself another drink. His fingers hurt like a son of a bitch; he hoped he hadn't broken any.

"Lex?"

"I'm here. I'm trying to think of where to begin." What he was really thinking about was a way to hang up on her again since this was very clearly a bad idea, but she said the one word that made him choke on his whiskey and hold on to the phone for dear life.

"Rape."

"What?" he choked out, and started coughing. She waited until the fit had passed.

"Rape. One of the topics on your list was rape."

_Holy fuck, did I really mention that? No, I couldn't have. I'd never have said anything about that._ But he had, and worse, Valerie had remembered it. Oh yes, she was one hell of a good counselor.

Valerie's steady, cool voice spoke on. "I was there when your hair started growing back, and I saw you when you'd been shot and were laying sick in hospital. Chloe told me about her betrayal of you, and since the two of you are still together I'd assumed you had forgiven each other. I have no idea what happened to you in China, but your panic attack suggested it included scalpels, needles, and you being helpless. The only thing that stands out, then, is the one thing you mentioned with one word alone, and then skipped over, and that is 'rape'." She was silent for a breath or two.

Lex breathed along with her. Finally he said, softly, "That is not what bothers me anymore."

"Not anymore?"

"No."

"Were you the receiving party or the administering party?"

Lex let his head drop back in his neck, snorting. He rubbed his eyes. Oh yeah, they were wet again. Better keep them closed so he wouldn't spill. "Both, actually. Well, on separate occasions." _Because being me sucks, both to me and to other people._

"I…see."

"I don't think you do, really," Lex said pleasantly. "But, like I said, it's no longer an issue. It's all forgiven and forgotten."

"Rape is not something you get over easily," Valerie argued with surprising vehemence.

_Hell no, I got that._ He smirked, downed another inch of Lagavulin. "You'd be amazed how therapeutic a good torture session is when suffering from sexual traumas," he quipped.

Unfortunately, she wouldn't let it go that easily. "The one who raped you, was it a man or a woman?"

He snorted. As if he'd ever let a woman rape him. Rape. He decided he didn't like that word. He didn't like what it implied about him. "A man."

"Did it start out assented?"

Despite himself he chuckled again. He didn't think either of them, neither Clark nor he, had really assented to anything that had happened that morning.

"Not really."

"So it was an assault."

"In the most basic meaning of the word, yes."

"Did you press charges?"

"No." She waited. He sighed, bored with the subject and sure she wouldn't let it go without some kind of explanation. "Because...It was an accident. Or incident. Because he hadn't been planning it to be violent, and because it was, in some way, flattering and justified." She sputtered at that, but he went on, "Because he is one of the few people I call friend, and because what he did didn't change that. Not much, anyway. And because no one would believe me, least of all me, myself. And because he just saved my life again. So no, I didn't press charges, and neither will I consider doing so in the future."

"Do you have any idea how much you sound like a sufferer of Stockholm syndrome right now?" Valerie asked. "Does he hold any power over you? Apart, of course, from the blatant power he exhibited over you when he raped you?"

He really wished she would stop using that word. "There's no need to be sarcastic," Lex drawled. He opened his eyes and was happy to find the world steady and unblurred. "If there was any form of power shift resulting from this incident, the shift was toward me, not him." More expectant silence. Lex frowned in annoyance. He poured himself another drink. "Trust me, what he did to me hurt him more than it did me. Look, I don't want to discuss this. It was a mistake mentioning it to you, and unfair of you to have such an excellent memory and keep nagging about it."

"Oh, pardon me," Valerie said. "Forgive me for focusing on your lesser traumas. Shall we talk about the rape you apparently performed yourself?"

"Wow, you make it sound like stand up comedy."

"Well, I wouldn't know. Was it?"

"No, it wasn't, it was in bed, thank you very much, and she quite forgave me."

"A woman."

"I wouldn't rape men."

"I'm sure the woman in question is glad to know that."

"She..." He fell silent. _She doesn't know anything about __**that**__. She should never know._ "She knows how to take care of herself. I doubt she even sees it the way I do," he added, considering. "She's weird that way. And circumstances were…mitigating. At least, that's what she keeps saying." He shook himself. "Like I said, all is forgiven."

"Yet you haven't forgiven yourself."

"Yes, I have."

"No, you haven't, or you wouldn't have mentioned it to me."

"I didn't."

"Lex..."

"Oh good, we're back to the point where people say my name and expect me to be repentant."

"I am trying to HELP you," she snapped.

"You're not helping me, you're embarrassing me," he retorted. "I'm telling you, all is resolved with everyone content with the situation."

"Does Chloe know?" the infernal woman wondered. "About either of..."

"She should," Lex said curtly, cutting her off. "She being the one that forgave me. Could we please talk about something else?"

"Sure," Valerie purred back. "What would you like to talk about? Your MRI-triggered panic attack?"

"No," Lex said. He was no longer on the brink of tears. As a matter of fact the emotion overruling all others at the moment was irritation.

"Ah, no, you already danced around that subject with your poor psychiatrist. If he couldn't help you because you wouldn't talk to him, how could I?" Irritation, he noted, now dominated her tone of voice as well. "Really, Lex, if you won't talk to me about what bothers you, I can't help you."

"Maybe you won't need to," Lex discovered. He was feeling much better. Tired, and fidgety, and suddenly aware of being alone, but better nevertheless. "I'm actually doing pretty good again. Thanks."

Valerie sighed, but there was a snort of laughter at the end of the exhalation. "You're good. Well that's a relief."

"Yes, it is. Right, so I guess I'll..."

"You still need help. You're fucked up so badly your mind doesn't know with which trauma to deal first."

"Thank you so much for this vote of confidence."

"I mean it," she said sharply. "You're mercurial as hell and this gives you the impression you've passed your crisis, but all you've done is repressed it again."

"I've relived my experience as a sexual victim, thanks to you?" Lex countered. "Surely that counts for something?"

Valerie exhaled so loudly it sounded like a storm. "You're a bastard, you know that, do you?"

Lex shrugged. Wasn't it sweet when people were determined to be worried about him? It made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Or maybe that was the whiskey. Without noticing he'd drunk four glasses in the past half hour. "Are you still stuck behind your truck?"

"Something seems to be moving way up ahead. Far up ahead. Perhaps I should come by. I'm not that far away."

Lex swallowed. All of a sudden his throat felt dry. "I don't think that would be wise," he said, and grimaced at the husky sound he produced. He took a hasty swallow; he didn't want her to think he was crying again.

"Why not? I'm much better at reading you when I can see your face. And I think..."

"Because I'd probably end up sleeping with you, and that would be a bad idea."

She was silent for a moment. "I'd still be there to agree or disagree to sleeping with you, you know." Her tone was warm again, and rather amused.

"I'm not so sure about that," Lex said honestly. "I can be incredibly persuasive."

"I could now make a highly unethical joke about the previous subject of our conversation, but I think I'll keep my mouth shut instead," Valerie said. The smile hadn't left her voice. "What are you going to do now, then? To sleep? Or are you having nightmares?"

"How's your traffic jam doing?"

"It's acting like any kind of jam: it moves like gloop and spreads all over the place—but yes, we're moving. At least, the car five cars in front of me is moving. How so?"

"Nothing." All of a sudden, he found himself unwilling to be alone. Inviting her over, however, would not lead to anything he wouldn't regret later, he was sure of that. He liked Valerie, sure, he loved her to bits, but not enough to risk cheating on the person he had rendered bed-bound and helpless, and he knew himself well enough to know that he would probably either make a complete fool of himself to, or end up in bed with Valerie. Neither of the two options was something he was looking forward to.

"I think I'll call Chloe." He hadn't meant it to come out like that. As a matter of fact he'd been planning to say something entirely different, like 'I'll go hang out with a friend of mine', or 'One of my pals invited me over if I ever felt like it'.

Valerie reacted with obvious approval to his doormat plans. "I think that's a very good idea. Maybe you can stay over, sleep with her, if only…"

"Val, she's wrapped up in BANDAGES from ankle to waist! I can't expect her to BED me."

"I said 'sleep with her', not 'reinvent the Kama Sutra'," Valerie chuckled. In the background, an engine purred to life. "Have you been avoiding her all this time?"

"I haven't been avoi…"

"Sexually, I mean. I know, I know, you don't want to talk about THAT with me, but still. Have you?"

Lex studied his swollen knuckles. They had started to turn blue, but the cuts were closing. "She's hurt," he said softly. "I don't want to hurt her any worse. And I most certainly don't want her to think she's letting me down if she can't sleep with me. She would, that's the way she is."

"It seems to me that you're not giving her the chance to tell you whether she can or cannot sleep with you," Valerie said. "If you're keeping a distance, like you say you do…"

"I'm not keeping a distance, I'm just…" Horny. Well, wasn't that a nice transition? From bawling desperation to stuttering concupiscence. "So you think I should go and see her?"

"Yes."

"And see how far I'll get before she passes out?"

"You might ask her if she feels up to it, first," she suggested. "But yeah, at least ask. And then go for it. She's not a China doll; she'll tell you what is ok with her and what isn't."

"Hmm," Lex ummed, but really, he'd already made up his mind. At least he knew what he was going to do with the remainder of this evening.

"Just do it, will you," Valerie said. "I'll call you in a few days to see how you're doing. And you can always call me. You know that."

"I know," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"No problem. Oh goody, it seems I'll be able to get home this night after all. I've reached Mason and Forbes. I'm going to hang up now, unless there's something else…?"

"No," Lex smiled. "No, I think you've done enough for me this evening. Have a good trip home. Is there any kind of wine you're fond of?"

"Darling, Champagne is always delightful."

Lex blinked in surprise. Not even the pretense of refusing a gift. "Brut?" he asked.

"I prefer Demi-Sec."

"Have a good one, then."

"Thanks Lex. Good night."

Lex ended the conversation, smiled, and immediately dialed Chloe's number.

"Hey!" she said upon answering. "What's up, Lex?"

_You don't even know how applicable this question is._ "Are you home?" he asked, and he laughed as he HEARD her tongue flick out against the receiver.

"No, I'm just going out to join my jogging group. Of course I'm home, where else should I be?"

"Anyone with you?"

"No. Lois left an hour ago. Why, did you want to come over?"

"If it isn't too late…"

She snorted. "Lex, sweetie, I spend 20 hours a day in this bed. Trust me, I'm happy to see you in the middle of the night."

"Which, incidentally, is about what time it is."

"It's barely eleven." Her tone changed, became less flippant, more sincere, more longing. "I'd love you to come by. I always love to see you, and you know it."

The warm and fuzzy whiskey-feeling spread through Lex's stomach and throbbed in his damaged fingers. It also throbbed in other parts of his body. "I know," he said hoarsely. He got up, noticed his sweaty shirt, and smirked to himself. "I'll be there in half an hour."

"Good." She laughed. "I'll be here, in bed, waiting for you."

And while it made him grimace with guilt, that was exactly what Lex wanted to hear.

TBC


	26. Chapter 25 and End

Hello people! Sorry for the huge delay. I am a lazy person, and so it took me a long time to write this. On another note, this is the end. Because I'm so lazy, I've decided to put the last two chapters into one post, both so I don't have to post twice and you won't have to wait longer : )

**There's a bit of sex in this chapter, not too graphic, I think, but you know what they're doing. Everything is more or less resolved.**

**Thanks to those who reviewed—loved the reviews, darlings! Many thanks indeed, and I hope you enjoyed it! Oh, I guess I should post the tiny little sequal-one-shot to this story as well. I wrote it as a birthday fic for one of the lovely ladies over at Naughty Seduction—are you a Chlex lover? Go there. There are tons of excellent fics over there.**

**Anyway, that's it! Have a good one!**

Twenty-five: Buddha's Grace

"You know," Chloe said as she pulled away from his greeting embrace a little, "you smell different every time I see you. I mean, I like what you're wearing now, but it's definitely different from the way you smelled yesterday. I also liked that." She pressed her nose back into his neck and inhaled.

Lex shivered. He wasn't sure if it was normal to regard your lover nuzzling your neck in a dog-like way as sexually stimulating, but it was.

"Come to think of it," Chloe continued, oblivious to the way she was torturing him, "you have this HUGE cabinet filled with all kinds of colognes and deodorants and sprays…I thought you'd hoarded all of that from the hotel rooms you rob, but now I notice how you change scent every time…" She took another sniff. "Why do you?"

Lex inched away a bit. He cleared his throat. "I don't want to be recognized by scent," he said.

"I'm sorry?"

"Scent. Perfume. Most people stick to one kind, and then you can recognize them by their scent. I don't want people to get a whiff of…I don't know…Old Spice, and immediately associate that scent with me."

Chloe blinked. "What's wrong with having a favorite brand of perfume? I always wear Mexx…"

"There's nothing wrong with Mexx," Lex hastily assured her. "It has nothing to do with whether I enjoy the scent or not, it's…" He made a helpless gesture with his hands. How to tell her he had found out one of his old girlfriends had been sleeping with one of his top employees because he'd smelled the man's cologne on, of all places, the back of the sofa? Or how he had felt an inexplicable wave of dislike and disdain every time Vivienne Teague walked into the room, because she was always preceded by her telltale Vanderbilt perfume? And of course, how could he tell her of Helen and her hateful Chanel Nr. 5?

"Is it like the cigarette in the X-Files?" Chloe interrupted his thoughts.

"Beg pardon?"

"How sweet of you." She grinned. "The cigarette in the X-Files. From Cancerman. You know, the cigarette stub in the ash tray that tells Mulder that the man he's trusted is in fact in cohorts with Cancerman."

"Ah. Um, yes. Well, not entirely. It's more like…People react to scent. They always react the same to the same scent—scent as in fragrance, perfume on people. But also the smell of one's home. No matter where you really are, if I would put a blindfold around your head and somehow produced the smell of your own home, you'd become calm and feel at home. You associate that scent with privacy, safety, HOME.

'Now, if I'd wear some kind of deodorant, say, some Axe type, and then burned one of my employees absolutely down to the ground, he'd get edgy whenever he smelled a hint of that particular type of Axe. Even if I apologized—which I probably wouldn't—he'd still associate that smell with an unpleasant experience."

"So you wear different kinds of scent so you can berate your employees without them getting skittish?" Chloe asked with a disbelieving grin. "How psychologically advanced of you!"

Lex shrugged. "Actually, the psychology behind it is directed at my future colleagues rather than the ones I already employ. And my father, of course." He grinned. "He's even more triggered on smells. He actually catalogues people's favorite perfumes and learns the combination of person and scent by heart. I like to surprise him."

Chloe shook her head. "Wow. Every time I think I've got you figured out, you've got another layer somewhere. It's becoming less and less like a Shrekian onion and more and more like a petticoat."

Lex snorted. "First you want to dress me up in leather and now you're clothing me in petticoats." He was feeling a little embarrassed. The whole scent-thing had become so normal for him, he'd never considered it to be excessive. But now he'd attempted to explain it to Chloe, it seemed rather strange indeed.

Chloe, however, regarded him with warm fondness. "You're a strange fruit, mister Luthor." She caressed one hand across his cheek, then used it to pull him close enough so she could kiss him. "But edible enough, even in petticoats."

She herself didn't taste half bad either. Coffee, of course, but only very faintly. Next to her bed was a glass of some colorless soda—one of those sweet, fruity, non-sugar crap drinks all women were convinced were good for their figure—and she tasted of that as well. He wouldn't drink the stuff if he were dying of thirst in the desert, but at the moment that particular taste was something he felt he'd always craved, and he dived into her mouth as if she were a long drink glass.

He hadn't meant to be passionate. He'd wanted it to be deep and tender, because, after all, she was hurt and fragile and he needed to be careful with her, but instead he almost immediately lost control. Her responding like she usually did, which was to say with vigor, instead of merely offering her pursed lips like a wounded maiden should, didn't really help.

Or maybe Valerie had been right. Maybe she'd been feeling neglected.

"You are…overdressed," Chloe growled at one point, and tugged at his shirt. She herself was only wearing a night shirt and panties. They both attempted to divest one another from their shirts, and got hopelessly tangled up, with Lex's sleeve stuck in Chloe's shirt's neck opening, but in the end both shirts, still in a knot, ended up beside the bed, forming a clever illustration to their bodies.

He kissed her mouth, her neck, moved his mouth down to nibble a nipple…and jerked back as his hand stroked her side and she made a small sound of pain.

"Sorry. I'm sorry." Jesus Christ, what was he thinking? Well, he was thinking she looked pretty great in only her panties, but that wasn't the point. The wound in her side had closed, stitches removed a week ago, but she was still black and blue there, and here he was, hugging her. Hurting her. _Focus, you idiot. Never mind your brain's about to liquefy and drip from your ears, stop it, right now._

"No!" Chloe got herself a firm grip on his ears and pulled him back. "it's ok! It's ok," she repeated, softer. "Don't stop."

"It won't work."

"Yes, it will."

"I've just realized you probably can't even part your legs wide enough."

Chloe shrugged. She stared at her bandaged leg, conceding he might be right, but hardly daunted. "Improvise." She kissed him again, moved her hands from his ears to his shoulders. Her fingers were kneading him like a cat's.

_Right. Improvise._ He could do that.

Without breaking their kiss, he trailed his hand down her stomach, slipped below the cotton. She moaned into his mouth, and he really, really wished she was physically all right so he could slam her against the nearest window and have his wicked way with her, Bloodhound Gang style.

She wasn't though, and fingers somehow seemed…impersonal.

_Improvise_. He pulled away from her. Chloe latched to his mouth like an algae eater, and damned if her fingers didn't creep to his ears again.

"Not stopping," he assured her, warding off the sound-processing organ impairing attack. "Not stopping. Lift your butt."

"Oh god, Lex, I love it when you talk dirty to me," she giggled, but she raised her hips so he could pull her panties off. When he flung himself flat on his stomach between her legs, easing them open ever so gently, though, she resisted, if somewhat half-heartedly. "Uh, I didn't wash since this morning, when I showered…"

"This morning?" Lex asked, patting the inside of her sound thigh to avoid having his head crushed by her reaction of hygienic modesty, "Oh gods the horror." Without further ado he pushed one finger into her, and lo and behold, open Sesame.

Sesame was having a bit of a flooding problem. Gratifying women orally was quite a venture, he'd always thought, even though he'd become quite good at it over the years. It was a bit like gopher hunting in a swamp at night: every time you thought you'd found the magic button it disappeared again, and then you had to feel your way back to it while wading through slippery folds. That were simultaneously being struck by minor (or not so minor) earth quakes. The fact that the gopher in question all but retracted at the moment supreme didn't make it any easier—but then again, Lex had never been able to resist a challenge. He held her damaged leg immobile with one hand, stuck out his tongue and dove in.

Chloe wasn't much of a challenge, though. His jaw muscles hadn't even begun tiring before she arched and made that lovely whimpering little sound—a sound that gave him as much satisfaction as, one might say, a well-conducted business deal with the NAM, or the making of a few millions.

It also made his cock throb in neglected protest, stuck as it was between his body and the mattress. He decided to ignore it. For god's sake, he had to hold her legs to keep them from spreading too wide and hurting her, he wasn't going to force herself upon her. No, better to just keep licking and elicit more one-million-dollar sounds.

"Stop. Stop," Chloe gasped, spoiling his plans. Her fingers slid over his skull, trying to find purchase without scratching his skin. He stopped, wiped his mouth and chin and rested his head on her lower belly, regarding her with a questioning glance. He met her eyes through the valley between her breasts, raising his brows as hers furrowed. Her breasts moved in an interesting way as she tensed her belly muscles and failed, several times, to change her position. "Arrrgh," she growled, pummeling her fists on the mattress, "I can't sit up! Please come up, it's too sensitive right now." More groping of fingers. "Damn it, I want to kiss you."

Amused, Lex sat up straight. "Come up?" he asked, rolling off the bed and positioning himself on the edge, next to her. "Like a periscope? You're getting quite demanding on your sickbed, dear miss Sullivan."

"Damn you, I didn't make fun of you when you were hurt." She pouted.

Lex snorted. No, she hadn't made fun of him, she'd almost made him burst his pants because she wouldn't touch him—a sin he, at least, was no longer guilty of. He opened his mouth to remind her, but Chloe now showed she was a good learner: she shut him up by kissing him, doing such a good job of it he was painfully hard within a minute, and that was BEFORE she started fondling him through his pants.

He put his hand over his, wincing internally as her fingers gripped him tighter. "Uh, no, let's not do that."

"Why…" she kissed him again, "the hell not?"

"Well," he began, and then couldn't think of a single reason why she shouldn't continue. Her hands weren't damaged. In fact, they seemed to have gained extra dexterity: she managed to undo his zipper and buttons in the one second he was grasping for an answer.

_Because this is not what I had envisioned. Because I don't want her jerking me off because she's too beaten up to do anything else._ He couldn't very well say that, could he now?

And now, he realized with a hiss of surprise as she yanked down his boxers, it was too late to find a suitable reply.

"Stand up," Chloe said. "No, like this, facing me, so I can…" She leaned forward, nudging his belly with her nose, "reach you."

"But…" Lex protested feebly, but she simply put both hands on his ass and pulled him closer, gave his erection a lick and then took him into her mouth as far as she could. Words fled. "Sure, fine," he breathed, making her chuckle, which was an interesting feel to say the least.

He closed his eyes, one hand coming to rest on the head board of the bed, the other drifting down to stroke her hair. For a few seconds he just enjoyed it: being here, being touched like this; the urgency seemed to have lost its edge in the heat of her mouth—which was odd, he thought, since a minute ago he had felt as if he would explode at a nudge—for the first time in days he felt part inside of him relax, as if some bodiless bit of himself had just stretched and settled back in a slouch.

Then he asked, "Isn't this uncomfortable for you?"

She replied with a terribly unsexy "Mo." and a slurp that made him laugh, and swatted his left buttock in vengeance.

He squeaked as she lowered her molars and hastily patted her head. "Good doggy. Nice doggy. Don't bite."

Chloe snorted, spat him out and looked up at him with all those nice sharp teeth exposed in a banana grin. "Christ, Lex, would you hold back on the doggy there? I can't blow you if I have to laugh."

"Sorry. I'll keep my mouth shut."

"You may moan if you like. Or scream. I've vowed I'll make you scream one time." She cracked her jaw and went back to business.

"I don't…scream during sex," Lex said, taking a quick breath as her fingers joined her mouth. Oh yes, he might be good, but she wasn't at all bad herself. He steeled himself to stay true to his word. "Men who scream lack self-control."

"Mmm," Chloe offered, and stroked along his entire length to his balls and back again.

"And how," Lex murmured, closing his eyes again, "could you ever have sex with a screamer in someone's bathroom while that other person is changing clothes in the next room?"

Chloe ummed her agreement. She was stroking him faster now, and quite suddenly he found his mouth dry and unable to form words. The need he'd felt the past days pooled hot like coffee in his stomach, concentrated in his balls and began to expand under Chloe's skilled tongue. _Christ god, I'm going to fucking __**down**__ her…_

A quick warning was in order. "I'm…" was all he managed, and then he did make a sound—if not a scream—a low groaning sound, deep in his throat, and then that heat rose up and spilled and left him in three, four pulsing waves. His fingers clenched in Chloe's hair and the metal of her head board; he came so hard he blacked out for a second, and was only just in time to catch himself before he collapsed right on top of her. "Oh, fuck…"

Chloe coughed, swallowed, pushed at him, and he pulled away, half-dazed.

"Sorry…"

She wiped her mouth, grinning but still coughing. He handed her the glass of soda from her side table. "Sorry," he said again.

She took a sip of soda. "That's ok." She rubbed a hand over her chin, chuckling. "It was a good thing I didn't give you leave to go home. You obviously needed that. You've been saving it up for me, haven't you?"

Lex was too experienced to blush, but felt like he should. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"Don't be." She pulled him down beside her, kindly covered him up with her blanket. After a moment, he kicked off his shoes and his pants and crawled in completely. "All you did was give me an unexpected helping of protein. I am not averse to protein. It's full of goodness, according to my weight-watcher program."

Lex laughed. "Ugh."

"Well, yeah, I like potato chips better, too, but hey, who am I to be picky."

"That's prime Luthor semen you're dissing."

"Be that as it may, but it doesn't taste like Cheese and Onions," she returned tartly, and took another dramatic swallow of soda.

"Cream and Chives?"

"No."

"Paprika?"

"Nope."

"Chicken Barbeque then?"

"No, not exactly." She laughed, then put the glass into his proffered hand and let him put it back on the stand. "Not everything tastes like chicken."

"I'll try to improve my flavor," Lex promised, carefully pulling her against him.

She winced, muttered 'ow' under her breath and settled against his chest. "Nah, you don't have to. It's fine. It just doesn't taste like Lay's. Lex?"

"Hm?"

"Are you staying over?"

"I don't think so. I don't want to disturb your sleep, and I probably would."

She snorted. "Lex, I'm sick and tired of sleeping. I'd be more than happy to have you hogging my bed. We haven't slept together in ages."

"I might hurt you."

Chloe sighed. "Oh, Lord, spare me from self-reproaching males! How on earth could you hurt me? You're afraid to touch me, let alone hurt me. I'm not made of glass, you know."

"I know that," he said quietly, and started as she thwacked his chest.

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what? I'm not doing anything!"

"Yes, you are! You're indulging me. You're oozing guilt, I can feel it seeping out of you."

"I'm not seeping anything!"

"Yes, you are. It's all over your face. 'Oh, dear me, boohoo, I got Chloe injured, and now I have to treat her as if she's the frailest thing on earth—no, even better, stay away from her completely because whoooooo, if I am close to her, BAD THINGS happen to her.'" She gave him a stern frown. "Am I right, or am I right?"

Lex could do nothing but gape at her.

She rolled her eyes in disgust. "You know what that is, Lex? It's stupid. And it's hypocritical as well, as if you have the sole right to my decisions in life. Do you know who does it all the time, too? Clark. Everything that goes wrong, everybody who gets hurt, or killed, or maimed, or whatever? It wasn't because of happenstance or fate or just bad luck, no, it's because Clark Kent failed to protect people. It's insane, and unhealthy, and I tell you, it reeks of hubris. You can't claim responsibility for everything.

"The only reason I got hurt was because I fell into a trap when I tried to make a run for it. That has nothing to do with you."

"But if I…"

"If you had what? Not been caught and tortured? If you'd stopped me from going along with Hua? I take responsibility for that. For all of it." She sat up, slowly, grimacing once as she moved something she shouldn't have moved, and faced him. No anger, just a very un-Chloe-like gravity. "I came with you to China because I wanted to. When things blew up, I went with Hua because I wanted to know what was going on. I knew it was stupid. I was aware of the danger. And I would have done it if you hadn't been there, too."

"But I _was_ there," Lex argued. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I still should have protected you."

"Well, you couldn't. You saved me, I think that counts for something, don't you? And what about you, Lex? Everybody's always asking how I am doing because I have scars to show. How are you? And don't say 'Fine,' because I won't accept it."

"I can't be fine?" Lex asked evasively.

"I don't know? Are you?"

"I feel chastened by your remark."

"Lex!"

"All right, all right! I have crying fits and panic attacks at the sight of needles and wake up from nightmares trying to throttle my pillow."

"Lex!"

"I'm fine," Lex said. The truth sounded as preposterous to him as it obviously sounded to her. "And yes, I'm staying over. Where are you keeping that spare duvet? You know I'll steal all your covers if we only use the one."

Chloe sighed. "In that cupboard. But seriously, how are you? Are you really ok?"

Lex kissed her on the tip of her nose. He felt fine. Nice and warm. "I will be," he said. "It just takes a bit of…getting used to."

"To what?"

_To having been what I subjected others to._ He shrugged. "To hate my precious healing factor."

"Your healing factor? Why'd you hate that?" Something like a sneer twisted her lip. "At least you don't need to spend ages in a bed because your flesh won't mend."

Lex felt another stab of guilt, combined with a bitterness that slightly worried him. _No, my wounds have all healed. But even if they hadn't, the scars are on the inside, and let me tell you, they're frightfully disfiguring. Monstrous, even. _

He shrugged. "If I hadn't healed, Fu Yang wouldn't have taken me to experiment on me. But," He turned towards her, brusquely cutting short both his narrative and his train of thought, "enough of that. Let's not dwell on unpleasant memories of the past. You're right, I shouldn't carry on about healing too well when you don't heal fast enough..."

"Let's not turn this back on me, either," Chloe said, sternly poking him in the chest. "This is not about me whining about being an invalid. We were talking about you."

"And we had just established I was doing fine," Lex said, and yawned. He wasn't really the cuddling type, but this was very nice. And he was very tired. Physical tiredness combined with psychological exhaustion and afterglow made for a potent desire to turn off and turn in. His eyelids were heavy as stones as he opened his eyes at a slit when Chloe stroked her fingers along his face.

"Do we need that spare duvet? Because if we do, you'll either need to get up and get it, or release me so I can go get it, 'cause if you're going to fall asleep on me I won't be able to fetch it."

"Nah," Lex mumbled, and settled more comfortably against her. "We'll do without the spares."

She laughed. "You must have missed me as a sleeping drug," she teased.

"I have!" It couldn't be later than twelve and it had been ages since he'd been able to do as much as admit he was tired, let alone closed his eyes with the expectation he might get a solid night of sleep. "For other reasons too." He thought about something additional to say, something about missing her laundry skills, but decided to simply leave things at that. He _had_ missed her. And she had never done any of his laundry. Before he could think of anything else he could say without coming across overly doormatty, he'd fallen asleep.

She did have that effect on him, it seemed.

*

He leaned over Fu Yang's gibbering form, pressed down his wrists, smiled down on the man's terrified face.

"_Lex," Clark admonished. For some reason he was in the same room as Lex—in Fengfei_

'_s basement—but locked away in the Dixie, which was made of glass. Fu Yang was lying on top of the gurney Lex had spent so many hours tugging at his bonds, but his arms were loose, hands covering his face. Blood was streaming between his fingers._

_Lex watched that flood with savage pleasure. "He'll know where she is," he said. "Oh, he'll know. He'd better know." He felt his mouth stretch wide in a predatory grin. _

"_I told you I'd make you pay," he purred in Chinese. _

"_Lex! Stop it!" Clark shouted from the glass box, just as Fu Yang said, "I don't understand what you're saying! I don't know what you're talking about!"_

"_You're lying," Lex said. His hand, as it smacked down on Fu Yang's covered cheek, sent drops of blood flying in all directions. Fu Yang screamed, teeth flashing through the rent in his cheek behind his fingers._

_Especially that flash of teeth filled Lex with unholy pleasure, even as another part of him started to sicken with disgust. "How does it feel, your Phoenix Fire? Invigorating, isn't it? Don't worry, soon the pain you're feeling right now will become unimportant. With a bit of luck you'll still bleed out, but you won't feel a thing. Isn't that a nice prospect?" _

_He brought his face even closer. "Where is she? Where is Chloe?"_

"_She's dead!" Fu Yang gurgled, but Lex shook his head._

"_Don't be stupid. If she's dead, your death is going to take forever. Well, about as long as you kept me here. What was that? Six days? Seven?" He nodded pleasantly. "I will SKIN you, Fu Yang. I will cut off every single inch of your skin and hang it across from you on the wall to stare at all day." Fu Yang's already bulging eyes widened even further. To his surprise, he had light brown-green irises. How odd, he'd never noticed that before. _

"_Lex…" Clark was still standing in the glass Dixie like a bird at a show. His presence was distracting, strange, but not unwelcome. A failsafe, Lex thought, although he didn't know why he should need one. " Chloe is…"_

"_Tell me where she is," he said, ignoring Clark and hooking the first digit of his index finger into the man's cheek. He pulled. The flesh stretched out and tore further with a ripping sound. Fu Yang shrieked, a very high, almost feminine exclamation of agony._

_Doubt filled Lex's mind. He stopped pulling, stared down on the ruins of the face he'd assumed was Fu Yang's._

_But how could it be Fu Yang if it had hazel eyes?_

_And blonde hair? _

"_Stop it!" Clark shouted, his hands pounding on the glass he for some reason could not break. "Lex, that's not Fu Yang!"_

_How could he have missed the fact that this person was female?_

_That it was…_

"Uhhhh!" He came awake with a jolt, not with a scream, and lay on his back for a while, gasping once or twice before he got his breathing under control again. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, then quickly snatched them away again to make sure Chloe was still lying next to him.

She was. The hazel eyes from his dream were open, studied him from a face that was little more than a pale oval in the dark, but thankfully unravaged by scalpels. She'd turned off the lights at some point, and he hadn't even noticed it.

"Nightmare?" she asked.

"Yeah…"

"About Fu Yang?"

"Sort of."

"Have them often?"

Lex smirked. "Regularly, yes."

She rolled onto her side, slowly, the movement awkward and painful, and put her hand on his chest. One day that would have bothered him, but now it didn't. Not anymore. When she drew soothing circles on his chest it did precisely that: soothe him.

"He did more than just experiment on you, did he?"

Lex looked up at the blissfully darkened ceiling. No glaring light bulbs. "Yes," he said tonelessly, "he did. And I…I did more than just bust you and the other hostages out."

"The thing Clark won't talk about. And the thing Lois won't talk about," Chloe said. "There's something they won't discuss, and I think it's because they all believe it's your secret to tell." Her hand stilled. "Will you? Tell me? Or will you push it away and keep it from me because of some misguided intention to spare me?"

"Not you," Lex murmured. He wondered if her fingers could feel any of the scars that had covered his chest. At the moment, he could feel every single one of them. Fu Yang's signature stung like a fresh burn. He touched the skin over his belly. It was smooth, unmarred. "Me."

Chloe's fingers followed the wake of his, lightly touching the signature, feeling nothing. "What did he do to you?"

"It's more what I did to him. Or what I think I did."

"Then what did YOU do?"

"The same he did to me," Lex whispered. "Only worse. The only thing I don't know…" He swallowed, the fear of his nightmare rising in his throat and cutting off his breath. "The one thing I'm not sure of, is whether I cut…that I did what I did to the right person."

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked quietly.

"I thought it was him," Lex said, addressing the ceiling. "I mean, I was absolutely convinced it was Fu Yang. But later…I was hallucinating. Because of the Phoenix Fire. And I thought I saw him again. And then he disappeared." He rubbed the signature. "I carved him up bad enough to…but he was gone, and ever since I'm wondering…was it the wrong guy? If I did, where did he go? Who helped him? If it wasn't him, if it wasn't Fu Yang, why would someone have bothered getting him out? But if it wasn't, where is he? Where is Fu Yang?"

She was silent, but her hand had resumed caressing him, so if she was disgusted with him, she didn't show it. "Tell me," she said after a minute. "What did he do to you. You mentioned cutting."

"Yes."

"He cut you."

"Yes. Remember that razor he used to slice open Wong?"

"Oh god, Lex…"

"It's alright." He put his hand over hers, gave it a little squeeze. "He didn't really hurt me. Not badly, in any case. But he…signed me. Like a…picture. Claimed I was his piece of art. And he kept me tied to a table, and…" He exhaled loudly. No point losing his cool over this. "It was highly unpleasant," he recapitulated.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know it had been that awful." She gave him a one-armed hug.

Lex put his arm around her, pulled her close. They lay like that for another moment, then she raised her head from his shoulder.

"He SIGNED you?"

"Yes. With his razor."

"Where? Down here, on your side?" Unerringly her fingers returned to that spot, even though she couldn't possibly feel or see the scar. "You touched it earlier."

"Yes."

"Can I have a look at it?"

He shrugged. "There's nothing left to see. It's healed. But sure." He flinched as she turned on the lights with the remote control. All of a sudden he had the crazy urge to burrow down beneath the duvet and keep himself covered—crazy, because there was nothing to see.

"Here?" She stroked the skin a little to the left of his right hipbone. It tickled. He picked up her finger and put it down an inch to the left and two inches higher.

"There. It's gone, right? Nothing more to see. They're all gone, as if it never happened." He snorted. "That's what I mean with hating my healing abilities. It isn't that I regret the absence of pain, because believe me, I don't. But it's…difficult, sometimes, to feel every single one of those cuts and find no proof that they ever existed."

"There were more? Deep ones? Where?"

When he closed his eyes he could still point them out. The deep ones. The ones Fu Yang cut open again and again. The ones he had infected.

Chloe's fingers traced every one of them, her touch like a marker pen, bringing out his wounds. She followed up the touch of her hands with her mouth, kissing each invisible scar as if she were comforting a small child with a hurt finger. The gesture amused Lex, but to his surprise it WORKED.

Talking about it, being weak and pathetic and pointing out why he had good reasons to be that way, even if it no longer showed, helped.

She didn't kiss Fu Yang's signature, she licked it. It made him hard so fast he was surprised he couldn't hear the slap of his erection hitting his stomach.

"Hm," Chloe said, a giggle in her voice. "That's…not exactly what I was setting out to accomplish."

"Ignore it," Lex said, and sincerely hoped she wouldn't. "My senses are a bit fucked up at the moment. Conflicting signals and all that." He tensed as she licked his deeper-than-skin-deep scar again. God, but for some reason that almost drove him crazy.

"Ignore it? You've got to be kidding." She gazed up at him, grinning. "Fucked up or not, no sense letting a perfectly good hard-on go to waste. Especially since I'm positioned like this already."

Lex snorted, then gasped as she first licked the scar again, and then went down on him. Conflicting signals indeed. Wasn't that great? Fu Yang had given him another erogenous zone. He would have laughed out loud if he hadn't been so busy trying to keep from moaning with pleasure.

*

Lex sent Valerie two bottles of Piper Heidsieck demi-sec and a note telling her she was a great woman, and that if she ever needed his help, she could call him. Anytime.

He would have sent Chloe, discoverer of new pleasure zones, six similar bottles if she had been allowed to drink alcohol with her medication. Instead, he bought her a double chocolate surprise cake, and drank the champagne himself. Seven instances of sexual intercourse over 12 hours, and nine hours of sleep in between, had rendered him a little bit giddy. He could almost forget about the nightmares that kept visiting him still.

Nevertheless, sleep and sex, and he felt like an Ipod that, after weeks of rechargeables, had finally been allowed to run on good old use'n'toss Panasonic batteries again.

He entered his office one hour late, but whistling (which made Mary wince and smile at the same time since he still proved to be unable to produce an agreeable sound that way), and went through four briefings without losing track for a single second.

Five people had their performance appraisal interview with him that day, and all went in stressed and left gooey with relief. When Lex was alright, the world was alright, and he was more inclined to overlook small shortcomings in his employees in worlds on which the sun was shining.

He knew he would probably have a backlash later. That night, probably, unless he went to stay with Chloe again. Dinosaurs hadn't looked at that pretty new light in the sky and foreseen their imminent demise. Lex chose to think like a dinosaur. A rubber dinosaur; the kind that bounced back from everything.

Bounce he did, or rather, his heart bounced into his throat when he received an email from Brian McCarthy. It was very short and that, in itself, was enough cause to make him jittery. Brian was a lawyer, and therefore fond of words. When he got curt, something was up. The mail only read: _Lex, I have news. Can you be on Skype at two-thirty AM your local time? I have limited connection here(cell only) but I need to send you something, and I need to speak with you. Please let me know whether you're available._

_Yours,_

Brian

Lex swallowed something, he didn't know what it was, but he could feel it slide down all the way to his stomach.

_Brian,_ he typed back, _I'll be there. _

Five minutes later he received a text message on his phone, which only read _T534-2008AL-23 RSVP Brian_. He texted back _Got it_, and wondered what the hell it was. The rest of the day passed in a haze, this time not of exhaustion and stress, but anticipation. Thankfully Chloe had her father over for the evening, so he didn't need to stay long and be unmasked as wholly distracted. In the evening he was so pent up he couldn't sit still, and went swimming in the basement pool, but at two twenty-five he was behind his computer, Skype window open, waiting.

Brian did not let him down. He pinged Lex exactly one minute before 2:30.

"Brian. Let's hear it. I don't have visual, didn't you need to show me something?"

"Good evening, Lex," Brian said pleasantly. "How are you?"

"How I am? Oh, swell, you know, relaxed, had an interesting day at the office. I worked on my stamp collection earlier this evening…How are you? Do you really have need of these pleasantries?"

"Eagerness should not come in the way of civil behavior," Brian chuckled. He was in excellent spirits. A good humor indicated he had something good—or at least Lex hoped so, because this expectancy was all that was keeping him from yelling at the man.

"I wasn't aware you were so set on chit-chat," he drawled. "Or courtesy. But if you wish to discuss the weather first…"

"No, thank you. The weather is of little interest to me at the moment. Although the fact that it's finally cleared up is the reason I'm calling you."

"You found Fu Yang?"

"Maybe. Possibly. The police brought someone in yesterday night, questioned him today. I was there, and the whole thing was taped."

"Fu Yang?"

"I don't know, Lex. I just don't know; I never met the guy. A couple of kids found him in an abandoned shrine somewhere in the mountains. Apparently he'd been staying there for days. Someone must've been taking care of him because he had penicillin and food and blankets—he wasn't doing so badly, but those kids…somehow, they must have felt he wasn't to be trusted. Turned him in."

A couple of kids. "Let me guess," Lex said. "Those kids…a girl and two boys."

"Three boys," McCarthy corrected. "A girl and a befriended boy, and two brothers."

Ai-li. Lung. Ta. And his brother. Lex knew this as certain as he knew what shrine Brian was talking about, even if he had never seen it himself. Chloe had. She'd be delighted to hear that her Tireless Threesome had found Fu Yang.

If it was Fu Yang.

"Do you have any pictures?"

"Better than that," McCarthy said. "Interrogation footage. It's from the side, so if it's not clear enough I can send you the pictures too. I'd say the injuries speak for themselves, but…I understood the man's some kind of chameleon. I imagine you want to hear his voice; be sure it's him, and not some poor sucker he's cut up to take the blame for him."

"Yeah," Lex said, feeling a bit faint. "Yeah, I'd like to be sure."

"Streaming it now," Brian said, "It's encoded and locked. Password is what I texted you this morning—that would be afternoon for you." The 'receiving video' symbol started flashing. Lex got out his cell, waited for the file to complete. A few seconds later a dark square popped up on Lex's screen. It loaded for a few seconds, asked for the password, which he provided, then started playing.

The room was semi-dark, or the camera wasn't very good. The image was pixilated, but no more so than a Youtube clip of moderate quality. Two men sat on one side of the table, another man on the other. The man closest to the camera, one of the two on that side, was wearing a sweater and jeans; the man next to him wore a suit. The other man wore a policeman's uniform. Suspect, lawyer, police. Check.

Lex leaned forward until his nose almost touched the screen. He didn't notice he had started to tremble.

At the start of the clip, the suspect was looking at his lawyer, who was talking to the policeman. The file came with sound, and Lex cranked it up until it hissed through his speakers in recognizable tones.

"…would like to know what exactly my client is being accused of," the lawyer said. His speech was the kind of snarling Chinese without hardly any honorifics. "He was not trespassing. He was…"

"Mister Chan, or Fu Yang, or however your client wishes to call himself, was arrested on charges of kidnapping, torture, fraud, and creation of unlawful substances." The policeman's voice was calm, polite, utterly unfazed.

"A made-up story by a couple of kids…"

"A physical description by the very person who managed to escape your client's clutches," the policeman interjected smoothly. He turned towards the suspect, who now showed his profile as he met the man's face.

Despite himself, Lex uttered a soft gasp. He did not immediately recognize this man: his hair was shorter, much shorter than Fu Yang's had been, shorn until it was little more than a dark fuzz. His nose was different too, it almost looked broken. But the cheek now visible—his left cheek—sported two ragged, L-shaped scars, exactly as he remembered drawing them.

The same sickening doubt he'd felt in the temple assaulted him again: was this really Fu Yang? Had he made a mistake after all? Had he disfigured and maimed the wrong person?

He swallowed, missed the cop's question, then forced himself to pay attention as the suspect spoke up.

"I told you before. I have no idea what you're talking about. I was attacked. The man who attacked me…he had wounds like these…" he pointed at his face. His middle finger was shorter than his index finger, and again Lex inhaled sharply. "He left me there, half dead. I don't know why. I kept asking him, why, why are you doing this to me? What do you want with me? He never told me."

The voice was…might be…right. The accent was different, more southern than either Fu Yang's accent or the slang he'd been using the last time Lex had seen him before Lois rescued him. He couldn't make out the tone of his voice, though. The sound was too poor. Lex growled. He fiddled with the sound.

"So you say you were on your way visiting Shueng, were kidnapped by a man with severe injuries, maimed to look exactly like him, and then abandoned at that shrine with enough medication and food to keep you in at least some degree of physical comfort?"

"Would you call this comfort?" the suspect spat, and again Lex was unsure. Fu Yang had always been calm. "He cut off one of my fucking FINGERS!"

"While lacking one of his own?"

"Yes. It wasn't him who took me, I told you that before. But he did cut me up. He broke my nose, but he didn't cut me up—the other one did that, the one with the scars. With a…with a scalpel. It was almost as if he…he took some kind of unholy pleasure in it!"

No.

"I told him 'you're sick! You can't do this, my people know where I am. If I won't contact them they'll come here to find me.'"

No. You didn't say that.

"You know what he said to me, then? Do you know what he said, that sick psychopath? He said, 'Don't worry. Don't struggle. I don't want to hurt you, let alone kill you. I'd hate to let someone like you die. You may not believe me, but I'd prefer to set up this business without any deaths at all.'"

I did. I said that. And yes, he did say that, but not to you, he said that to me.

The suspect looked up. Lawyer and policeman had a short verbal fight, but Lex didn't look at them, didn't listen to their words. He watched the man with the feature-disrupting broken nose and the hair that was so short he was almost shaven. And he saw that man flick a glance at his watch, and at that moment he was sure. He had seen the tilt of the man's head, the casual flick of the wrist a dozen times.

Even though his chest contracted and his hands cramped, he felt his mouth stretch into a twisted grin.

_It's him. It IS him._ He stopped the file, played it again, listening carefully. As it turned out, the clip ended only a minute after the point he'd stopped it, and gave him few more clues—but that bit of repeated conversation and that look at his watch was enough.

He opened the connection again. "Brian. Are you still there?"

"Yes."

"It's him."

"Fu Yang?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"How sure?"

"One hundred percent. He…did you listen to their conversation, and to his story?"

"Several times."

"What he calls his 'attacker'…That's exactly what I said to him. I mean, word for word." He barked out a breathless laugh. "The stupid fuck's literally repeated my words to him. LITERALLY!"

"He might not be able to formulate any words to describe himself as seen through another's eyes," Brian said. "It wouldn't surprise me. Men like that are wholly unable to put themselves into another person's place." He paused for a moment. "But you are absolutely sure he is the man who kidnapped you and tortured you?"

"Yes." It came out hoarser than he intended. He cleared his throat. "Yes. That's the man I knew as Fu Yang. I will show the footage to Chloe as well. Did you send it to the Sparkling Sources group as well?"

"As a matter of fact I did. To all of them. I got three responses. Two negative, one determinedly positive."

"Who recognized him?" Lex wondered.

"The old man. Shanyuang. Said he recognized the way his mouth pulled up when he sneered. He was quite adamant, phoned me personally. He also told me to give you his regards whenever I happened to speak to you. So, hereby: hugs and kisses from Yu Jingli."

Lex laughed. If he sounded a bit manic, Brian didn't tell him. They spoke for another moment, setting a time on which Brian would call him with information concerning a streamed statement Lex would give, and then they disconnected.

Lex opened the video clip one more time, watched it closely for one more time. When Fu Yang started to speak, a smirk drew at his mouth. When the man repeated what he had said to Lex, and what Lex had said to him, he smiled openly. By the time he saw that telltale flick of the wrist, he was laughing openly.

"Gotcha," he hissed, feeling the corners of his mouth wrinkle the skin of his cheeks. "Got the right one in one go, and GOTCHA, you motherfucking bastard! You're all mine now!"

And finally, FINALLY, all doubt was gone from his mind.

When he went to bed, he dreamed again, and again he grappled and fought with the man who had harmed him so. But this time, the face beneath his razor didn't change—not until he had completely cut its skin off and it had become an unrecognizable mess.

Lex woke from that dream in a tangle of sweaty sheets, panting like a horse, but grinning still. He didn't think he'd ever needed a shrink this badly, but hey, at least he was feeling fine again. And for the first time since he'd returned from China, he rolled over after his nightmare, closed his eyes, and slept on until his alarm clock went off.

Twenty-five: End

The following day, after work, Lex went to see Chloe, his laptop in a small case, which he left next to her bed when he kissed her. He was still in a very good mood—the incarceration of people who had harmed him tended to have that effect.

Chloe, still assuming he was the same troubled individual he had been two nights before, took hold of his hands and showed him a concerned face. He noticed it immediately; it was the same kind of expression Valerie had worn. Apparently Chloe had decided that sex and sleep—and a midnight confession to being somewhat out of sorts—wasn't enough to set him straight.

"Lex," she started. "I've been thinking..." And an introduction like that was rarely a good sign. Lex tried to look even more content. He was positively oozing it as it was, so he was surprised she hadn't picked up on it yet. She still didn't. "That insomnia of yours...It's obviously linked to Fu Yang and what he did to you."

"My insomnia cleared up since yesterday," he replied with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. "It's not a headache. It's psychological. And if it improved—does insomnia improve or do you improve? Anyway, if it isn't as bad as it was, it must be because you talked about it. So maybe..."

"Let's not and say we did," Lex interrupted with a smile. He squeezed her hand, then pulled one out of her grasp to put a cup beneath the coffee machine drip. He selected a Macchiato. Apparently, a short interval was in order before he showed her the movie file. Something to take her mind off of his troubles—perceived troubles, right now. "Let's, instead, talk about awkward moments. Did I ever tell you about my crush on the red-head at the opening of one of Dad's Swedish branches of LuthorCorp in '97?"

"Lex, we should…"

"I was seventeen," he said, leaning back and smiling in fond remembrance. "Seventeen is a difficult age for boys—did you know that? The only thing you think about is sex, whether you're having it or not. The only thing you can concentrate on is sex. The only thing you really care about is sex. Everything else comes second."

"You must have had such a difficult childhood," Chloe said despite herself.

"Nah, not really." He picked up his coffee, relished the fragrant steam before nipping at it. God, life was good without doubt. "So, here I was, in Stockholm, with my father, dressed in one of my first business-purpose suits and hating it, feeling like a freak and probably acting like one, too; and at the same time feeling wondrously self-important because it had been me who'd done the calculations for the company take-over, and it had run like a dream…"

Chloe's slightly arched eyebrow told him he was bragging, so he went on quickly,

"And there she was. This girl. At the same table as the man who was to lead the company: this beautiful, gorgeous, more-than-fap-worthy centerfold babe."

Chloe gave a small chuckle. Lex grinned.

"Skin like satin. Hair like fire—dyed, nothing natural about it, but still, wow."

"Red-headed? I thought you always went for brunettes?"

"Like you?" Lex shot back, displeased to be pulled out of his self-effacing story.

"No…but like every other woman you've dated."

"I'm not talking about a woman I ever dated," Lex argued. "I'm talking about this goddess sitting at a table in Stockholm eleven years ago. Let me finish.

'So there she was. Red hair. Honest to god green eyes. Maybe lenses, I don't know. So I was standing there with all the blood draining from my head and thinking I might have to put my head between my knees because I might faint otherwise—like I said, being seventeen is a bitch. Then," he tried to keep from laughing at the memory, "I look to my right and I see my dad displaying EXACTLY the same yokel-like behavior—I hear him swallow a mouthful of drool created by just looking at this woman.

'So he gives me this little glance he has, his 'this is how we do this, Lex' look, and he straightens his tie and walks up to the table to shake hands with the guy and kiss the girl's hand.

'And she gets up.

'Dad gets ready to snatch her up like a barracuda a guppy.

'And she keeps on rising, and rising, and rising…and she is six foot fricking FOUR, and she dwarfs Lionel Luthor like he's a ten-year-old kid!" He guffawed, remembering exactly the frozen expression of slick seduction mixed with dawning horror on his father's face. Chloe as well was giggling helplessly. "I swear to god I thought she was going to take him on her arm and walk around the room with him. God, it was priceless!"

Chloe shook her head. Then her eyes rolled to the left and up as she pictured the situation, and she laughed. "Alright, it is funny. What made you remember that moment?"

"Nothing in particular. I just did." He put down his half-empty cup, picked up his laptop bag and hoisted out his Acer. "I need to show you something."

"What is it?" For the moment, he decided to ignore the apprehension in her voice, and swallowed the 'It's not people who're sawing off their own extremities,' that rose in his throat. She'd learned her lesson about that. And so had he, as a matter of fact. If he weren't too busy dreaming about being cut open, he still dreamed about his Ferrari's horse logo.

"You'll see in a bit. One moment." He entered the password, then the other password to the folder he'd placed Brain's video in. When the player was ready, he turned the laptop around so she could see the screen. "Who is this?" He opened the file. He had modified it so it started the moment Fu Yang showed his profile. Seeing that broken-nosed profile made his mouth want to stretch into a sadistic smirk; he controlled himself and kept his face straight.

Chloe focused on the screen. She watched intently for two minutes, frowning. The voices sounded even tinnier through his poor laptop speakers. Then again, she didn't know what they were saying anyway. People always sounded very different when speaking another language—especially Asians. "I don't know. Is it one of the other Phoenix Fire suspects? I don't..." The man raised his hand, showing the diminished fingers, and her eyes shot to Lex. "Is that Fu Yang?"

"What do you think?"

"I..." She turned back to the screen. Watched. She couldn't understand a word of what was being said, and her eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to follow at least something of the conversation. She glanced at him again when Fu Yang moved his head and the scars on his face momentarily caught the light, but said nothing. When the clip ended, she raised her hands in a gesture of helpless frustration. "I wouldn't know! It might be! But he's...he's very different. Lex, his face!...and his hands..."

"I didn't break his nose," Lex said. He wished he had. It would have been a nice touch.

Chloe looked back to the screen, pressed the play button again. She watched the whole thing again, then shrugged. "I don't recognize him. If you say it's Fu Yang, I believe you, but I wouldn't swear on the Bible."

"It's him," Lex said. He wasn't sure to be disappointed she hadn't recognized Fu Yang, or proud that he had. What felt really good was the fact that even though Chloe couldn't identify the man, his certainty wasn't compromised. The more often he watched the file, the more convinced he became he was seeing the man who had cut him up and injected him with Phoenix Fire for over five days. "I'm sure of it."

"I only saw him three or four times," Chloe said doubtfully. She stretched out her hand to the mouse pad to start the file again, but Lex shook his head and closed his laptop.

"The man's a professional actor, Chloe. A pathological mimic. Even I had trouble identifying him at first, and I know him...intimately. But it is him. I was hoping you'd recognize him but if you don't, it's ok. I am sure, and I'll make sure he'll be convicted for his crimes."

"What if he sues you for maiming him?"

"I'll plead temporary insanity. It's rather accurate, actually, and since he was both directly and indirectly responsible for my insanity, I'll have no doubt it'll work." As a matter of fact he was going to try his hardest to make sure Fu Yang would come to an untimely demise even BEFORE he came to court, and otherwise in prison, but she didn't need to know that. He wasn't sure if he could arrange such a thing, anyway.

"Hmm," Chloe murmured. She was staring at the closed laptop as if it held more than Intel Dual Core and Windows Vista—which it did, since Lex had replaced the demonic operating system with Ubuntu several months ago.

"Coffee?" asked Lex.

"Yes, cappuccino please—Lex, are you sure? Are you really sure that's him? Because..."

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Then..." the frown weakened, then disappeared. "So that's why you sleep better since yesterday! You got this yesterday, right?"

"Yes," Lex confessed. He pressed the coffee button. "Brian sent it to me from China."

"They've got him!"

"They've got him. And your three friends were the ones who found him."

"Ail-li! And Lung and what's his name. Ta."

"And, apparently, Ta's brother. On some subconscious level he must have realized the man they found hiding in the shrine—that same shrine you visited—was the same as the man who got him hooked on Phoenix Fire."

He barked a laugh at the coincidence, or FATE, of it all. Ta had said his mother had kept his brother in the basement for fear he would go and get his hands on a syringe of Phoenix Fire and blow his heart out. This might have been his first walk outside in weeks. They would have gone to their more or less private shrine to pray for…he didn't know. Guidance? Vengeance? Better days? And they had found…Fu Yang. Bless you, Buddha.

Chloe clapped her hands together, drawing him out of his burst of piety. "That's great!"

"Yes. It is."

"And you didn't mutilate the wrong person." She grimaced. "Damn, Lex, listen to your corruption of me. I think you slicing up some defenseless guy is a reason for joy and celebration."

"He hurt me," Lex said curtly. "And I was defenseless, too."

"I did say it was a reason for joy and celebration. Which still is an awful thing to say." She put a spoon of sugar into her cappuccino, stirred slowly. "Do you know when the hearing will be? There will be some sort of case, right?"

"Yes. But I have no idea when it will take place. Brian will let me know, I'm sure."

"Will you have to go to Shueng to testify?"

"I hope not." He was sick and tired of China. "Maybe. We'll see. Maybe the written statement and the one on vid I gave after Clark tore the temple apart will suffice." He shrugged. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For the moment, I'm just glad Fu Yang was apprehended." _He was really starting to crowd my dreams_.

"Yeah," Chloe said softly. She smiled and rubbed his knee. "Me too."

*

Twelve days after Brian McCarthy had sent Lex the file, Valerie Decan called Lex to tell him that the final victims of the Cradle Cancer epidemic had been sent home, pronounced fully cured and all with a promising stubble of hair on their scalps.

"This calls for celebration," she added.

"It does," Lex said. He crossed out another of the topics on his mental To Do/Solve/Cure/Amend list, ran a relieved hand over his own very bald head. "What order were you thinking of? Media circus, Sponsor-luring or a Hospital staff-only party?"

"I don't need photographers," she immediately replied. "Although I wouldn't mind your Chloe coming along to do an article, if she'd like to. She is recovering well, I hope? It only just occurred to me that…"

"She's doing much better," Lex saved her. "And she'll do even better in another week, if she can walk without crutches. I'm sure she'd be delighted to be invited as your private reporter."

"You would be invited as well, of course."

"Naturally. I'd have the whole thing arranged."

"Of course," she repeated, sounding amused.

"Just to make sure LuthorCare wouldn't use money intended for the party to buy more water dispensers for closed-down laboratories, you understand."

She snorted. "I thought you'd have forgotten about that."

"Eidetic memory, my dear." _Especially handy when it comes to remembering people's faces…and the scars on those faces, and their hands, expressions and general conversations._ "Did you have a particular date in mind?"

"You mentioned another week…The tenth of March would be possible?"

Lex checked his schedule, although he already knew he was free that evening. "That would be fine with me. Wait, that's a Thursday. Wouldn't a Friday be more appropriate? That way people can get drunk and stay until the early hours without being—oh. Wait."

"Hospital," Valerie finished his line of thought. "Every day is a work day. But if you'd approve the next day's schedule to start at one for those not on emergency duty, you'd sure make a lot of people extremely happy."

Lex jotted it down on his notepad: 'Schedule start of work day at one'. "Any preferences of the form of party? Tenue de ville? Cocktail? White tie? Hawaiian dress?"

"A masked ball would be nice…"

"And entirely inappropriate for a hospital party. Imagine the shock of the people upon seeing a Harlequin's picture below the 'Hospital Celebrates Cancer Defeat' headline."

He could hear her pout through the telephone. "Oh well. I guess I would like to be able to wear my long black dress again…If I still fit into it."

"Excellent," Lex said, scribbling 'Cocktail' on his list. "At what time should it start? Late afternoon, after dinner, eleven?"

"Eight would be fine."

"Right. Do you have the name of someone who arranges these things?"

"I was hoping you'd know someone. Perhaps you should speak with Alan Dateman, our director," she added as an afterthought. "This is just a suggestion, after all."

"Ah. You haven't discussed this with your direct superior yet."

"No. I went over his head directly to you, abusing our friendship in the most disgraceful way."

"I'll give him a call," Lex smirked. "Make it sound like it was my idea, so he'll think I'm one of the most magnanimous people in the world."

"Why, you are, Lex!"

"After your blatant exploitation of our acquaintance, you no longer have the right to suck up to me."

"Ah, woe is me. I loved the champagne, by the way."

"You've earned every drop." He noticed that the light next to Mary's phoneline had started to flash green. "I'm getting another call. Dateman, right? I'll contact him this afternoon. Goodbye, Valerie."

"Bye Lex!"

*

With the beginning of March, Winter kissed Kansas goodbye—at least, that was what it felt like. The sun was already gaining warmth, birds tentatively sent the first few notes of a song into the air. They might be covered in snow not a day from now, but for the moment, it almost felt like Spring.

As Lex's Ferrari roared over the road, Chloe blinked into the sunlight and smiled. She wasn't used to being a passenger anymore, but on a day like this, it was very pleasant to just sit and enjoy the ride. They had the roof down, and the wind played havoc on her hair, but here in the country the whipping wind smelled like growing grass and trees, so she didn't really mind.

She had professed a desire to be outside, in this lovely weather.

Lex had promptly invited her over to the Mansion in Smallville, where nature was still natural, as he claimed (even though the carefully kept back yard was hardly nature, but he did have a point, as even Metropolis' not inconsiderable Main Park smelled vaguely of exhaust fumes and was crowded with joggers). Chloe was more than happy to come to Smallville and stay at the Mansion for a while. Lex's butler was adorable, and besides, it would be wonderful to spend a day or two in her old home town again. Two. Two days, no more. One at Lex's Mansion, in the garden, and one to order the dress at Minnie's.

She turned to Lex. "Hey. Did I tell you I got an invitation for a party?"

"The one at LuthorCare?" Lex said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye and nodding.

A jab of disappointment shot through her stomach. "You put me on the guest list," she realized.

"Actually, I didn't. Valerie Decan did." He took a turn, the car moving so smoothly, she only noticed the change of direction by the hair whipping her face. "She called me a few days ago to tell me that all the kids, the Cradle Cancer kids, had officially been cured. That's what the party is for; the overall success of LuthorCare. She requested you to represent the Daily Planet." He flashed her a grin. "Sorry, I didn't extend my influence as the founder of the hospital to get you an invitation."

"Valerie Decan asked for my presence?" She was stunned. While she appreciated Valerie's advise, and did not dislike the woman, she wouldn't exactly call her a close friend. Neither did she think she had ever done anything that would explain miss Decan's desire to see her at a somewhat private party. "Whatever for?"

"I don't know. She might like the way you write."

That made sense, and appealed to her professionalism. Yes, she could accept that as a reason.

"Or she might want to humor me," Lex mused aloud.

"Oh, thank you, I am now a bargaining chip for your attendance."

"Of course you are," Lex said indulgently, and she thwacked his arm. "Ow! Damn it, woman, how often do I need to tell you to keep your sadistic tendencies in check when I'm driving! Do you want to crash and spend some more time in bandages? Jeez!"

Chloe snorted, and caressed the spot she had slapped. "I'm sorry. Is that better?"

"Yes. Much better."

She laughed, briefly leaned her head against his shoulder before sitting up again and gazing out. They were passing fields, and the first few cows and sheep were out already, chewing contentedly. Absentmindedly, she waved at a cow.

"I'm going to order a dress at Minnie's," she said conversationally.

"That's nice. Does it include ears and a bow?"

She was sorely tempted to slap his arm again. "Minnie's is a dress store in Mainstreet, kind of opposite of the Talon," she informed him. "You know, behind the church."

"Ah."

"They make lovely dresses."

"I'm sure. But why not buy one in Metropolis? Wouldn't that be more convenient? Especially with your leg and all…"

"If they take my measures tomorrow, it'll be a while before the dress is finished. By that time I'll be able to drive again. And if not, I can always ask Clark to run me over. Or you," she added, grinning. "You're almost as fast."

Lex smirked in a very boyish, look-at-my-cool-car kind of way. "That's true."

"I got my prom dress from Minnie's, too," Chloe reminisced. She arched a brow. "It was torn rather badly. I have vague recollections of carrying an ax."

"Huh," Lex said. "Sounds like a killer prom."

She grinned. "Perhaps I should dress up as a woodcutter to the LC party as well. You know, for consistency's sake."

"Valerie did suggest a masked ball," Lex murmured, and she gave a squeal of excitement.

"Oh, that would've been fun! Why did she change her mind?"

"Because I refused to fund a masked ball."

"Why?"

"Because I've had enough of those when I was a child."

"You did? What's not to like about that? Especially as a child?"

Lex sniffed. "Yeah, masked balls," he drawled. "Those were fun. Nobody ever recognized me when I wore my werewolf mask. Of course others could make do with a simple facial mask, but that didn't exactly work for me, of course."

"Hm? Why not?" she said unthinkingly.

Lex rolled his eyes. "Since I was the only bald ten-year-old at the party, and would still be the one and only bald young guy at a current party."

"Oh, tosh." He raised his eyebrows, and she continued, "You had the chance to have hair, and you hated it."

"I didn't hate having hair."

"Yes, you did. You never had any words for your brave new growth but 'hideous', 'terrible' and 'disgusting'."

"Because it WAS horrible."

"You looked adorable."

"See?"

"You could wear a wig."

"God forbid."

"Turned backwards. That would be hilarious."

His lip curled, first up, then sideways as well. He chuckled. "Only if you'd start chewing pens again." He blinked. "Did you just wave at that sheep?"

"It waved at me as well."

"Sheep don't wave."

"This one did. Haven't you seen 'Babe'?"

"Wasn't that a pig?"

"It also had sheep in it, and I'm sure they waved."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Lex slowed marginally as they approached Smallville. A few cars appeared on the road, which had been almost wholly empty for most of the way. Chloe thought of Lex's lecture on scents as she breathed in the smell of farm town, and she thought he was right about associating scent with a state of mind. The scents of Smallville made her feel…young. Or rather, old and young at the same time. Smallville never changed, not really, and that sameness always reminded her of the fact that she HAD changed. Her life had changed.

The Mansion, as well, reminded her of that change, since it was now some sort of home to her as well, instead of the demesne of the Luthors. Even the forbidding gate held a certain charm.

Lex parked right in front of the door. He could, it wasn't as if anyone would call him out on it. Chloe quickly opened her own door and got out, only struggling a little with the crutches as she lifted them off the backseat. Her side didn't hurt anymore, and the scar was only a thin pink stripe now. She could walk again, too, if not for long periods of time. Her physiotherapist had advised her to start exercising again, but to take caution and stop when she got tired. Technically, she was still an invalid, but at least she didn't need help anymore.

Lex recognized her need to be independent, and let her struggle with the crutches without intervening. He simply watched her, and toyed with the small monkey key chain she had given him a few months ago. Its voice had gotten progressively deeper as the battery ran out. It wouldn't last for more than another week, maybe two, Chloe figured. She wondered if he'd still need it, after the monkey had been rendered silent.

They entered the house, and James the Butler took their coats with a minute but welcoming smile.

"Hello, James," Chloe greeted. "How are you?"

"I'm very well, Miss. And you yourself? I trust you have recovered somewhat?"

"Yeah. The crutches are just for show, to elicit pity."

He chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it, Miss Sullivan."

"Chloe. Please."

"As you wish." He turned to Lex. "At what time would you like to have dinner, Sir?"

"Seven will be fine." He glanced at Chloe. "Or is that too late for you? I was thinking about having a drink on the patio, first."

Chloe waved. "Seven is fine by me."

James disappeared with their coats, and Chloe limped after Lex to the dining room, and through the French windows to the patio. As if prodded, a bird burst into song. Chloe sighed with pleasure as she sank down in a big rotan chair stuffed with pillows. "Is that a nightingale?"

Lex raised his eyebrows. He had snatched two bottles—cherry brandy and Scotch—and two glasses from a cabinet in passing, and opened the brandy with a diminutive 'ploop!'. "I wouldn't think so. That sounds like a lark."

"Are you sure? I didn't know they sang this beautifully. Do we even have larks around here? Weren't they all shot by the local youth?"

"It's either a lark or those wild parakeets have learned to mimic them. Here you go," He handed her her glass, poured himself two inches of whiskey and leaned back in his own chair.

Much to her surprise he then proceeded to pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, shake one out and place it in his mouth.

"Do you smoke?" she asked.

"Mm?"

"I didn't know you were smoking."

Lex blinked. He took the cigarette from between his lips again, studied it, then smiled and placed it back in the packet. "I don't." He located a front pocket in her blouse and neatly shoved to packet into it. "You can give them to Lois. Hmm. Perhaps that would be a good way to reward her: give her a lifelong supply of cigarettes."

Chloe snorted. "Thank her and at the same time shortening her life by giving her lung cancer," she said, smiling to take the heat out of this rather awful statement. "That must sound like a good deal to you."

"The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Now that you mention it, however…"

"Not Lois," Chloe said with a shake of her head. "She's up to one and a half package a day now, and it hasn't even influenced her voice yet. The only thing her smoking habits would achieve is the slow but certain emptying of your bank account as you provide for her."

"That would be impressive."

"Lois is nothing if not impressive."

"It's a family trait."

"Why, mister Luthor, was that a compliment?"

"Yes, to her father. I must be one of General Lane's most rabid admirers…"

She laughed. "Rabid none the less."

"Mm." He draped his arm around her shoulder. "You should've seen me foaming at the mouth when he expressed his sincere gratitude upon finding me in—Let's not talk about General Lane. Let's talk about you, instead. What kind of dress did you have in mind?"

"Something long…"

"A long long-dress? Be still me palpitating heart. Give me back my cigarettes so I can soothe my jittering nerves…"

"For god's sake…I don't know! I still have to choose the fabric. Something grayish, I think, or blue. Or red—stylish red."

"Red is rarely stylish," Lex said with a pursed mouth, staring at her as if picturing her in several shades of color. "Red cars try to convey they're fast, red dresses are either designed to tempt or make people look like bishops."

"Temptation is good?"

"Yes rarely stylish. Especially when it's a long dress."

"Then, I guess, I'll see what fabric Minnie's has available, herself."

"Right," said Lex, and looked pensive for a moment. But when she asked him what he was thinking about he shook his head, poured her another cherry brandy and took another sip of whiskey.

*

The next afternoon, after a visit to the plant in the morning, Lex fled out of Minnie's after Chloe had spent a full fifty minutes looking at, fitting into, talking about, and discussing the shape of dresses. He liked seeing her dress up, he did. Hell, pretty women in pretty dresses, what was not to like? He'd done Paris' fashion streets with her, so he could take it. Minnie's, however, was NOT his kind of shop. It was both too modern and too archaic, with staring fashion dolls, staring salespeople (or maybe they only stared at him) and maddening Sky Radio music.

Chloe had never struck him as a particularly girly young woman. She was feminine, and charming, but she was more a Playmobil person than a My Little Pony squee, he'd always thought. With this, she had shown she definitely did belong to the other sex, and he had fled with his masculinity boosted but his dignity somewhat impaired.

"Sure, of course," she'd replied distractedly from behind yards and yards of silk and velvet when he mumbled something about needing coffee. "I'll meet you in the Talon in a bit."

A bit, Lex feared, might take up as much as another two hours. Ah well. The Talon had lots of different kinds of coffee, and he could always read the paper, or some old Torch lying around. Chloe might like it if he found her one, if only so she could lament the current state of journalism practiced at her former school.

He ordered some sweet, frothy kind of chilled coffee and was just gazing around for a seat and a spare paper when someone spoke his name.

"Hello Lex."

He looked up at the friendly feminine voice, spotted a gently waving hand and found himself eye to eye with Martha Kent, half-hidden behind a lowered newspaper in a comfy chair in the corner. She shot him a welcoming smile.

"Mrs. Kent." Despite all that had ever happened, it was always nice to see Clark's mom. She was just one of those beautiful people it was utterly impossible to hate, because they would let bygones be the bygones, did not pass judgment, and always gave people that one last change they needed to prove they were not completely worthless. She was, as he thought of it, kind of the perfect opposite of his father. He grabbed his coffee and walked over to her. The chair opposite of her was empty (school hours were a blessing) and he gratefully plunked into it.

Martha laughed. "Busy day?" she asked, folding her newspaper and putting it aside.

He smirked. "Pretty much." He exhaled across his coffee, blowing off a wisp of milky foam, and studied the woman who had reared his favorite study object. She was looking good, as usual, with a healthy shine to her auburn hair and her sweet, pretty, motherly face wearing the smile that made her weak mouth beautiful. "More trouble at the plant. And Chloe's shopping for clothes, which is actually a lot more exhausting to me—hence the coffee break." She laughed. "How about you? I mean, what are you doing here? If you don't mind me asking."

"I'm waiting for Clark," she said. "We went to check on the farm."

"I thought you sold it," Lex said, surprised.

Martha shook her head. "I thought I would. I thought I had to. But in the end, I couldn't. It's the only thing—no, not the only thing I have left of him, but the one thing that defined Jonathan. He worked his whole life to raise that farm, and keep it, and make it prosper…I can't just sell it because my life is different now." She studied her manicured nails, eyes growing pensive. "For Clark as well. In some way, some strange way, I know, I think he needs our farm to be out here; as some kind of…hideout. Or a home." She looked up again. She was wearing more makeup than she had as Jonathan Kent's farmwife, and the eye shadow and mascara made her eyes seem larger. The makeup did not hide the crow's feet, though, nor the crinkles caused by laughing. "Sometimes, after a week's work, I lie in bed, exhausted, and then I catch myself thinking 'God, life was never this hectic at the farm, and we worked from dawn till dark every day'."

"That's Smallville for you," Lex said, and sipped his coffee. That was Smallville too: really. Great. Coffee. For a decent price, too. Not that he cared, of course. "It's its greatest charm and its number one curse. You can do all you want to turn the world around but in the end, Smallville won't relinquish its peace and quiet."

"Perhaps…" Martha murmured. "Or perhaps it's just that picking and selling vegetables and milking cows is better for the soul than politics."

Lex snorted. "Amen to that."

"Was it you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Was it you who paid for the soil cleansing after that O'Rourke company found asbestos on our land?"

Lex frowned. "O'Rourke? Asbestos?" The name did ring a bell, but it was so faint he couldn't place it. "When did this happen?"

"A few months ago. O'Rourke's building company found a hidden bunker on Tennessee's land, in the wood. It turned out asbestos pipes were leading from the bunker, all the way up to below the mill. They had broken and sunk down, and spread all over the place. Someone paid for the removal and I thought I heard the foreman mention the name of Luthor…I thought it was you."

Lex grinned. He had placed the bell. "Not me, although I would have, if I'd known. No, it was my father. I remember seeing the order form." Well, well. Wasn't that cute? Now Jonathan Kent was gone and Clark was no longer a direct interest, dear old daddy played the masked benefactor to the charming widow. What great ammunition for future battles.

"Ah. Lionel." The knowing little smile, grateful yet sarcastic, told Lex that Martha did not mistake Lionel's actions for simple kindness either. She may be fond of the old bastard, but she was no fool. "How nice of him. I wish he'd told me, though. Tell me, Lex, I haven't seen him since we came to pick you and the kids up from the airport. How is he these days?"

"Well, as far as I know." Lex lowered his eyelids. "I thought you might see him more often than I."

"I haven't seen Lionel in weeks."

"He must have been busy."

"Like you."

"Like me," Lex agreed. He wondered where she was going.

"And how have you been?" Martha asked. "Since your return from China? Clark wouldn't talk about it much," she added. "Neither would Chloe. I called her a few times, but she always talked over what happened." She slanted her head. "Are you two alright? I guess you are," she answered her own question, "since she's here, and…shopping…"

"At Minnie's." he suppressed a shiver. "For a dress to a party."

"Aaah…Minnie's." A broad smile created more wrinkles at her eyes. "A worthy cause. She's up and about, then? The last time I spoke to her…three, four days ago, I think, she mentioned that she was taking strolls, but I got the impression she still needed crutches."

"Dressing rooms have hand holds at Minnie's," Lex said, somewhat morosely. "And they have chairs, too. Yes, she still has her crutches, but she's doing quite well."

"That's good to hear. I thought it might be…Ah, there's Clark." She raised that hand again, and Clark, blinking in the door opening, easily spotted her and went over to her, weaving effortlessly through the chairs. He was dressed in his old attire: blue jeans, red Tee, sneakers. The body in those clothes was more of a body builder's than an adolescent, but nevertheless Lex felt a sharp pang of nostalgia. Oh, those times that they were all young and more or less innocent…

"Hey Mom," Clark said, then paused as he noticed Lex. "Uh, hi, Lex." Wasn't it odd how they could still make one another uncomfortable after all that had happened?

"Hello Clark."

"Have a seat, dear," Martha said, rising and gesturing toward her chair. "You look tired. Can I get you something?"

Clark did not look tired, not even flushed, but he obediently sat down and murmured something about black coffee. His mother playfully caressed his hair, ruffling it in that universal maternal way that seemed to be more ingrained than breathing. Lex's own mother had done it that way when he was small, and as the red mop of hair was meteorically removed, she'd adopted some kind of bald-pate caress to replace the gesture. As Martha sauntered to the counter, Lex sat back and studied Clark over laced fingers.

"So. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Clark said guardedly. "You?"

"Peachy."

"I got your message, about Fu Yang being apprehended."

"Yup."

"You must be happy about that."

"I am, believe me."

"And I got the invitation to that LuthorCare party. Why on earth am I invited to that?"

"Well, since you had a large part in getting those kids back on their feet again, I'd say that is pretty clear."

Clark frowned. "No one's supposed to know that."

"No one does," Lex said. "Only I do. Your altruism will remain our little secret. Trust me."

Clark's eyes narrowed slightly. "Feeling hostile today?" he asked.

Lex shrugged. Perhaps he was feeling a bit miffed. Clark sometimes had that effect on him. Or maybe it was the whole Minnie's thing, and the memory of Chloe hopping through that store on one leg combined with the memory of near to instantly cured kids. "I just happened to wonder why you don't donate more often to science—medical science, of course."

"Is this another one of your schemes to..."

"I haven't had schemes that involved you in ages," Lex said curtly. Well, about one and a half month, actually, if you counted his epiphany in the warehouse in Shueng. "I do, however, wonder how you can maintain your self-righteous claim of being mankind's savior..."

"I don't..."

"While thousands of people die from diseases that can be stopped with a single blood donation on your side." He frowned. "And not only diseases. No, again, I have no plans to force or blackmail you into giving yourself up to science. I just can't help thinking about your best friend lying in bed for weeks with torn muscles while you might have healed her in a minute."

Clark's nostrils flared, lips pressed tightly together. He looked away. His voice, when he spoke, was tight and low. "I am not humanity's first aid kit." Of all things, he sounded...guilty. As if he were rehearsing something he'd heard himself a lot of times, but did not necessarily agree with.

Huh.

"I am not talking about humanity. I'm talking about a..."

"I KNOW what you are talking about!" Scowling, Clark turned back to him. His mother was still in line for the counter. "But it wouldn't WORK. Don't you think I've thought about saving people? What about my dad? Do you think didn't consider giving him my blood and cure that failing heart of his? Don't you think I'd have helped Chloe, or Lana, when she broke her leg, or even YOU when you were shot to pieces? I DID. And I didn't do it. I've wanted to, at times, believe me, but I didn't. It'd be wrong."

"In what way wrong?" Lex asked—not because he didn't agree, but because he was honestly curious for Clark's arguments. Apparently, the boy HAD given it lots of thoughts. Lex himself hadn't even considered Jonathan a possible receiver of Clark's healing power. It was only natural that Clark, the world's biggest boy scout, had wanted to save his father's life.

Clark shrugged. "It might be dangerous. My blood can be used as a component in medicine, and it might effect some pretty incredible reactions, but in the long run, we don't know what it'll do. My father was possessed by..." he shook his head. "On the whole, the effect of Kryptonite, or Kryptonians on ordinary people hasn't been all that positive. I may have helped your cancer babies, but I only agreed to that because they were dying."

"So far, they seem to be doing exceptionally well." Lex said dryly. "Me, too, and I was one of the people who tested out the antidote to the LuthorCorp fear gas, remember? Most of the town did. They're all doing fine."

Clark snarled in annoyance. "Damn it, Lex, is trying to protect you all not enough? Do I have a moral obligation to give up all my secrets just because I'm different?"

"No. You don't. But if this gets you so pissed of you might feel as if it were."

"That doesn't make sense."

"You're feeling guilty for not helping other people—healing them, I mean, and not because you don't want to. You're an altruist, Clark. Perhaps the biggest I've ever met. Hell, you'd give up the girl you love most to rescue people you'll never meet again. Some sort of visa exchange, perhaps? You're welcome on earth for as long as you do everything you can to protect it at the cost of your own happiness? In any case, you'd give everything to protect everyone. Which leads me to conclude that something, or somebody else is keeping you back from giving not only your personal best but your body as well." He leaned forward; Clark, he couldn't help notice, leaned back a little. "Who is it, Clark? Was it your father? Or your mother? Who has enough power over you to actually forbid you to do something?"

"It's none of your…"

"I know. I'm just curious."

"That's a healthy state of mind," Clark all but snarled.

Lex smiled serenely. "Not for me."

Clark's eyes widened slightly as he realized the truth of Lex's declaration, but he was saved from answering as Martha returned with the coffee. But the look he gave her explained enough, and Lex smiled, regarding the woman with even more respect.

Oh yes, they had drilled him well, Martha and Jonathan Kent. Children raised by that couple would never disobey their parents—not on the points they had set as non-negotiable. They would protect their alien child even if the rules they imposed went directly against his self-sacrificing instincts. Really, despite it all, little Kal-El couldn't have fallen in better hands.

His smile broadened. Clark's expression grew even warier. "What," he asked, "are you thinking right now?"

"Right now?" Lex asked innocently. He finished his coffee. "Right now I'm thinking about the quality of coffee served in small Kansas towns, and how surprisingly high it is." He put his glass down and patted Clark's knee. "I have to go. I suddenly remembered Chloe doesn't need Minnie's after all—not for cloth, in any case." He got up. "Clark, Mrs. Kent, it's been very nice seeing you. Clark, I hope to see you at the LC party. Have a good trip back, both of you."

"Bye Lex," Martha replied. "Say hello to Chloe for me."

"I will." He shot Clark a final enigmatic smile and walked out. "Are you going to a party?" he heard Martha ask. He had his answer: Clark wouldn't volunteer to his needle. But he had, once, and Martha apparently wasn't aware of it, or she'd have known about the invitation. The perfect son COULD disobey his mother, under the right circumstances.

Lex started to whistle. Another riddle to crack. Clark wouldn't heal his friends because the cure might be worse than the wounds, in time. But he would heal total strangers if they were dying—no, he would heal CHILDREN. But he wouldn't tell his mom.

As he reached Minnie's, Chloe was just coming out. He waved at her, and she waved back at him.

"Did you find anything to your liking?"

"I did find a model I loved. Not sure about the fabric, yet."

"I may have something of an alternative," Lex said. "Do you want to have coffee at the Talon or shall we go home so I can show you?"

Chloe considered for a minute, indecision plain on her face. Then she sighed. "Home," she said.

"What, no coffee?" He didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed she didn't want to go to the Talon.

"I always want coffee. But I can't get out of the chairs at the Talon…and I'm really curious about your…alternative. It doesn't involve fig leaves and apples, does it?"

Lex grinned. "No. Although that might be a nice alternative, too."

"No."

"Maybe you could keep hold of your crutches and use them to…"

"No."

"Pity. Do you want me to go get the car while you wait here, or can you walk that far?"

"It's right around the corner, isn't it?"

"Yes?"

"I'll walk," Chloe said drily.

*

One hour later, Chloe was sitting on a blanket-covered clothes chest, an empty mug of coffee dangling from her hand, while she watched Lex go through the seven clothing cabinets that lined the wall of the Mansion's attic. Chests and cupboards littered the place, together with unused furniture and, to Chloe's surprise, a pram and an old rocking horse.

"Are those yours?" she'd asked, stroking a lock of real horse hair that adorned the head of the horse.

"They were. I rarely use them these days," Lex had replied. He had made a beeline to the cabinets, but Chloe couldn't resist browsing through the displayed Luthor history. Despite the clutter, the attic appeared rather neat—neater than Lois' apartment. All the junk—and she guessed a lot of people would pay loads of money for this 'junk'—was carefully organized and lovingly maintained. No dust or cobwebs in this attic. The huge oak table in the corner shone just as beautifully as it must have done when it was still in use, and the books in the cases on the right seemed to be in excellent shape. She read a few of the titles, Mathematics, Psychology for Several Layers, Moby Dick, Das Prozess, Huckleberry Finn, The Faery Queene, Shakespeare's Complete Works, Don Juan, A Clockwork Orange. Most of them bound in leather, looking old and valuable. Not the last book, of course. She picked it up and opened it. On the first blank page was written in slanted writing: _To Lillian, because a personal touch will help you through the nasty parts._ It was signed with an underscored A.

"You have a signed copy of A Clockwork Orange?"

"Hmm?" She held up the book. Lex gave it a fleeting glance. "Oh, yes. To my mother. Apparently her father and Burgess met regularly, when they were living in England. She hated the book, and so Burgess gave her a signed copy to make her read it anyway."

"Why did you store it up here?"

"I hate the book, too," Lex said with a smirk, and turned around rummage through yet another closet.

"You hate A Clockwork Orange? Whatever for?" She murmured the first lines of the first page: "'There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie and Dim and we sat in the Korova milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening. The Korova Milk Bar sold milkplus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence. Our pockets were full of money so there was no need on that score, but, as they say, money isn't everything.' It's about young people doing exactly what they want to do, hell to morals; it's got Russian in it and the main character's name is Alex. What more do you want in a book when you're a boy?"

Lex sneered. "Acquaintances who do not use that book—or the movie to the book because they're too damn illiterate to get through it if it contains letters—to show you they keep up with pop culture." He looked up, sneer still curling his lip as Chloe chuckled. "No, really. I hate the book, and I hate the movie even more. I had this…pal…called Denver. When I tried to do psychology. We had to watch A Clockwork Orange and analyze Alex. Denver thought it was the height of literary fun to call me 'Little Alex' ever since."

Chloe burst into laughter. How typical of Lex to dislike someone for giving him a nickname he hadn't chosen himself.

"Now I can tell you," Lex continued, "that there is nothing literary nor fun about raping your knowledge of Burgess, Kubrick and a Clockwork Orange and forcing your stupidity onto someone else. Especially if that person's name happens to be Alexander, and even more so if said Alexander has gone by the abbreviation of Lex ever since he earned that name for himself when he was fifteen."

"You EARNED your name?"

"Don't ask," Lex said. He closed the door of the closet. "Where on earth can it be? It must be around somewhere…"

"What is it you're looking for?"

"Your dress."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, one of my mother's dresses. Not the dress itself, in fact, but the fabric it's made of. I think it would solve your problem…"

And so both he and Chloe had gone through stacks of clothing. Sometimes, Chloe would get sidetracked when she found something—a beautiful white silk gown, a tiny tuxedo, a silk tie with small fish with a big fish tie clip, an honest to god tiara—that demanded the back story belonging to that item. Sometimes, Lex couldn't remember. Sometimes he would, and then he'd recount the nature of the party that required such a gown, or such a tiara. All of his mother's clothes were still stored here, and all of them were gorgeous. Chloe had found at least three dresses she would love to wear, even if they were too narrow in the chest and too long in the leg—after all, dressed could be refitted; but Lex had his mind on something else.

"Well, what color is it, then," Chloe finally asked, when her coffee was starting to complete its circle and she was getting stiff from sitting on the chest. "Then at least I know what I'm looking for."

"It's green, green and blue, two-tone silk, I think, or maybe it's another fabric. It looks like water." He smiled again, a little embarrassed all of a sudden. "She wore it when I was very young, and only once or twice, but I never forgot about it. I can't recall any other clothes she wore but the ones from pictures, but that dress I never forgot because…well, because it looked like she was clothed in a wave." He looked up, grinning. "Is that a hint of an Oedipus complex, you think?"

Chloe shrugged. "More like a seriously impressive dress." She got up from her chest and opened the second to last closet. "I can't wait to…This is it." She knew she had found The Dress the moment she noticed the first shimmer of blue-green, and she knew she WANTED it as soon as her fingers touched the soft, sleek fabric when she carefully pulled it out.

It was covered by a fake-fur stole, which she draped over the chest in order to admire the dress in all its beauty. She could well imagine a little boy being so impressed by this dress he would never forget it. It rather was like water, a constantly shimmering, silky cover that rippled with every motion. It was long (too long for her, at the moment) but thankfully rather loose at the neck, trim at the waist and flaring gently at the hips.

"Oh yes," she breathed. "Yes, this will do very nicely."

Lex grinned. "Thought so."

"But…I'll have to have it refitted. Are you sure you don't mind? You, or Lionel?"

Lex shrugged. "I don't. As for him, I doubt he'll remember it ever graced his wife's body. Or maybe he will. If he minded, though, he shouldn't have let it rot up here in the Mansion's attic."

Chloe repressed a smile. Luthors were keen on blaming one another for their mutual mistakes, or perceived indifference. She did not say anything, though, just stared at the magnificent dress, trying to picture herself wearing such a thing. Part of her wanted to try it on, right here, right now, but there were no mirrors, here, and she definitely needed to see herself to appreciate it at the fullest.

She slung the dress over one arm, and made to close the closet door…when something else caught her eye. Something black and shiny and folded, stuffed in the back of the closet.

"Hang on. What's that?"

"What's what?" Lex asked. He had picked up her coffee mug and had already turned away to move downstairs.

Chloe bent over, cursing softly as her thigh throbbed painfully. But her efforts were not in vain. She came up with an armful of the thinnest, supplest leather she had ever seen.

Lex's eyes widened. "Crap," he said, with feeling.

"You bastard," Chloe said, stroking the soft leather with her hand. It was as flexible as latex. "There you were, giving me the eye when I tell you you'd look fabulous in leather, and you had it in your closet all this time."

"I wore it ONCE," Lex protested. "ONCE!"

"Right...here."

"And then I saw myself in the mirror and I decided that this really was not the image I was going for."

"You WORE it!"

"ONCE!" he repeated, holding up his index finger. "When I was young and stupid!"

"And when was that?"

"When I was eighteen or so."

"Did you change much since you were eighteen?" She shook out the pants, sized Lex up.

"I gained lots of weight," he said quickly.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. They can't possibly fit anymore."

"Then why did you keep them?"

"Because I forgot about them. To remind myself what an idiot I was at that age."

"I think you'd have looked damned sexy in these."

"No," said Lex firmly. "I looked like a gay skinhead. Why is it you want me to look like a leather slut?"

"Because I think you'd look incredibly hot."

"I didn't. I don't."

"You lost quite a lot of weight because of your short-time addiction, too," Chloe said, again holding up the pants and taking in Lex's admittedly lean frame. "Hmmmmmmmmm," she said.

"No," said Lex.

"I'm sure it'll fit you still."

"No," said Lex.

"Please?"

"No!"

"Pretty please?"

His mouth quirked, but he kept shaking his head.

"Pleeeaase?" she mewed. "With a cherry on top? I'll blow you if you wear it."

Lex groaned and pressed all then fingers against his forehead. "Whyyy?" he whined. "Why would you possibly want to see me in that?"--but his mouth was still doing that quirky thing, and Chloe sensed victory.

She widened her eyes. "Pretty pretty please?" she begged. "For you poor, invalid, suffering girlfriend who has endured so much?" It was kind of difficult to produce a convincing whine through her ear-to-ear grin, but she thought she managed admirably.

"Oh for fuck's sake..." He could no longer suppress his smile, though, and when she held out the pants he grabbed them out of her hands, swapping them for the empty mug. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll try to get into the damn things—but if I get stuck YOU can go downstairs to get a pair of scissors and cut me loose."

"That's a risk I am willing to take," she said smugly, and sat back to enjoy the show.

Lex unclasped his belt buckle. Chloe started humming the first few notes of 'New York, New York'. Unfortunately he did not cooperate. She supposed he had a natural grace, but he stripped of his pants with quick efficiency, and completely ignored the rhythm of the song.

"Stuff it," he said pleasantly, and tossed his slacks onto her lap.

She blinked when his boxers followed soon afterwards. "Wow. You're really going all the way, aren't you?"

"Underwear under leather," Lex said, stepping into the shining black, "does not work. Trust me, it doesn't."

"I trust you," she said, watching with interest as he pulled up his pants. They briefly got stuck on his thighs, but he have an almighty yank and then they slid up all the way. Yes, they were quite tight indeed, and she could see what he'd meant about underwear. There definitely was NO room for any such thing as underwear—hell, there was hardly enough room for ANYTHING.

She gave a cheer when he also took off his decent sweater and the shirt he had on beneath it. "Yay!" And then she swallowed her grin for just a second, because despite the fact that she'd seen him naked at least three times a week, and had a pretty good idea what he looked like…Christ, the man was hot! It was so easy to forget how utterly gorgeous that body of his was, when he clothed it in suits or when it lay next to her in the dark. Even when she'd kissed all of his invisible scars, it hadn't occurred to her he was in such incredibly great shape.

He HAD lost weight, but somehow his muscles seemed more pronounced, as if he'd been working out like crazy for the past week or so. In the semi-gloom of the attic it left him sleek and slim, pale like the blade of a knife with a leather-wrapped grip.

"Oh," said Lex, doing a slow twirl and then relaxing in some kind of slouching stance. "You make me feel so exposed!" His lopsided smile was half amused, half embarrassed—but he wasn't really embarrassed, she thought. There wasn't even a hint of color in his cheeks, and his posture was more challenging than anything else.

"You whore," she purred, and he laughed aloud. "I—'m too sexy for my…"

"Not quite," said Lex. He kissed her. She put both hands on his ass.

"Maybe you could wear these to that party. I'm sure you'd get a lot of pictures taken."

"My aspirations for world-leadership would be devastatingly compromised if I were to show up in these pants at a party celebrating the recovery of sick children," Lex deadpanned. He flicked open the fastening of his pants. "Enough fun…for you. I need to get out of this thing before it wrings me to a pulp."

"Mm." Chloe reached out and gently, every so gently traced her fingers along the line where leg became groin, across his crotch, down the other way. No excess space at all. Even less so when she repeated that action.

"This is unfair," Lex said amiably.

"I know. But I did make you a promise, and you did comply."

He blinked, then smiled. Widely. "Right. The attic, though?"

She shrugged. "Does James come here often?"

"Less often, I imagine, than in the rest of the Mansion."

"Well then." She took hold of the small black zipper and pulled it the rest of the way down. Nope, he didn't have enough space by far. "In that case we should be ok. Try not to soil my dress, will you?"

"Huh," said Lex, but he smiled, and before she could do anything he cupped her chin with his fingers and tilted up her head so he could kiss her lips.

THE END

There. That's it, folks. This story has gone on, about…300 pages longer than I was planning at the start, and while I really enjoyed writing it, I'm really happy it's finally done.

As you might have noticed, I've had a lot of trouble stamping out the last sixty, seventy pages or so—not because I didn't know where to go with the story, because I did, or because I was getting bored with it, but simply because it wouldn't come OUT. So thank you, guys, for sticking with me all this time, thanks for you patience and ALWAYS thank you very much for your reviews, proddings, PMs and kind words.

For the moment, I'm finished with Smallville. I won't say I'll never write anything SV again, but for now, I simply don't have any ideas left. Maybe, when I finally take the time to start watching the series again, I'll get some inspiration, but right now I'm going to leave SV behind for a bit and take a good long rest.

…Or I might do a very small piece if I get the right impetus. Probably not, though :)

So, again, thank you all for reading and commenting, hope you enjoyed the ride, and hopefully, see you soon!


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